What A Tangled Web We Weave
by Dream Weaver 85
Summary: “So I just go back to the house they kidnapped me from and hope they don’t try it again.” There was no bitterness or anger in her voice, just acceptance that, at least in this instance, the NID had managed to come out on top.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I'm ba-a-a-ack! My thesis is done, I finished my last exam two hours ago, and what do I do to celebrate? Post the first few chapters of my next story, of course! Here's the promised sequel to "Descension Back To Normalcy". You don't have to have read it to follow this story, but it would make me happy if you did. : ) Enjoy!

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"Woah!" Jack exclaimed, stopping in the doorway and gaping in surprise.

The hacking cough he'd been following had led him exactly where he'd suspected it would. Bloodshot eyes stared back at him from a flushed face that scrunched up as another bout of dry coughing wracked a body already sagging with exhaustion.

"Please tell me you feel better than you look," he requested, stepping further into the darkened lab, despite the fact that the whole room was probably contaminated with goodness only knew what.

When the coughing finally subsided, Sam gasped a few shallow breaths before replying.

"Good morning, sir," she croaked, her raw throat reminding her that it wasn't very happy with her right now. "I was just going over the schematics for the device on…" she never got to finish the thought as another coughing fit came over her.

Rolling his eyes at her workaholic tendencies, Jack reached out and laid a hand on her forehead. At least, he tried to. Between the violent coughing that shook her body and her efforts to evade him, he wasn't successful. With an exasperated sigh, he placed one hand on the back of her head to hold her still before trying to feel her forehead with the other. Even before he made contact, Jack could feel the heat radiating from her.

"Geeze, Carter!" he breathed quietly, turning his hand and laying the backs of his fingers against her feverish cheek. "Let's get you to Frasier and have her check you out," he suggested, obligingly laying his hand on her other cheek when she turned her head expectantly.

"I'm going to the infirmary after this," Sam promised, closing her eyes and reveling in the cool touch against her overheated skin. "But I need to have my preliminary report done for SG-9's briefing at 1130."

She had every intention of dazzling him with technobabble and proving that she was all right to keep working, but she could feel another cough building deep in her chest. Instead of letting loose a long string of polysyllabic words, her mouth snapped shut and she took a few shallow breaths, trying to delay the next bout of coughing for as long as possible.

"I think Hammond will take my side on this one," Jack stated dryly. "Let's go..."

Another harsh coughing fit erupted from Sam, forestalling the rest of Jack's order. Wincing in sympathy as the force of the coughing left her bent double, one arm wrapped protectively around her ribs, Jack rubbed his thumb soothingly over the short strands of hair still under his left hand. When her coughing finally abated, Sam wiped at her watery eyes and flashed him a grateful but tired smile.

Jack gave her the time to take a few shaky breaths before wrapping one hand around her upper arm and easing her to her feet. He kept a careful eye on her, noting how all the color drained from her face when she stood.

"Are you _honestly_ up to walking down to the infirmary?" Jack asked quietly, steadying her as she swayed on her feet. He strongly suspected that if he released her right now, she'd end up on the floor.

"Yes, sir," she tried to reassure him. Considering she was white as a sheet, even the flush gone from her fevered skin, it wasn't working very well. "I just need to go slow," she amended, hoping that it was a little more convincing.

"Okay," Jack agreed, assessing her with a practiced eye as he moved so she could start for the door. If it were just about anybody else, he'd be telling them to sit their ass down while he called down to the infirmary, but the woman in front of him routinely accomplished stunning feats through stubborn determination alone.

Also, sometimes it was really just easier to do things her way than to fight with her about it.

"Just tell me when you need a break," he added patiently.

"Sir, you really don't have to walk me down there," Sam protested, more out of habit than any real belief that she was actually going to make it to the infirmary under her own power.

"Ri-i-ight," he drawled, his skepticism obvious as he arched an eyebrow at her pointedly. "Still, since I'd like Frasier to check you out sometime this _week_, I think I'll walk you there anyway."

"Thank you, sir," she replied, conceding defeat. Setting out, she slowly shuffled towards the door, Jack's firm but gentle grip steadying her as she continued to sway occasionally.

"Hey, this is what they pay me the big bucks for," he joked, leaning awkwardly over the workbench to grab her box of tissues, just in case.

Tucking the flimsy cardboard box under his arm, Jack readjusted his grip on Sam so he held her more securely. Once out in the corridor, he maneuvered her so that she was between the wall and his body, keeping her from being jostled in the event that a security team went racing by. The pair had to stop periodically to either wait for a coughing fit to pass or to give Sam a chance to catch her breath, so the trip took much longer than it normally did. By the time they finally reached the infirmary, Sam was actually relieved to collapse on an infirmary bed and wait for Janet.


	2. Chapter 2

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"How is she?" Jack asked, returning to the infirmary almost two hours later. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets to stop them from fiddling with any sensitive medical equipment and landing him in hot water with the medical staff. Again.

"She's got bacterial pneumonia," Janet replied, keeping her eyes focused on the chart she was filling out.

"_She's_ right here, you know," Sam rasped unhappily from the bed the other two were standing on either side of. She tried to glare menacingly at the pair, but she looked so miserable that it was lacking most of what usually cowed the recipient of a patented Carter Glare.

"Are you going to keep her here for a few days?" Jack inquired, purposely ignoring the protesting woman on the bed.

"Let me go home, Janet. Please?" Sam pleaded, turning her best puppy dog expression on her. Given that the other woman refused to look at her, it didn't work very well. After only a few seconds, the expression was replaced by a grimace as another coughing fit stealing over her.

"Is there any way you and Daniel can stop by and check on her?" Janet asked, still not paying much attention to her patient. "I'd like someone to drop in on her a few times throughout the day, and I can't do it all myself." Finally finished scribbling her notes, she capped her pen and looked up at Jack expectantly.

"I'm good, and I'm sure Daniel won't mind," Jack agreed, a frown creasing his face when Sam's coughing failed to show any signs of easing up. "Are you _sure_ she's okay to go home?"

"At this point, all she can do is take the antibiotics I'm going to prescribe and get lots of rest," Janet assured, squeezing Sam's arm sympathetically as the coughing continued. "It'll be easier for her to sleep at home without the base alarms going off at all hours. And I'm pretty confident that you, Daniel and Teal'c will be checking up on her frequently," the petite redhead added with a knowing smile.

"So, one of us checks on her in the morning before work, one of us runs over at lunch and one of us drops by after work?" Jack suggested, offering Sam the glass of water beside her bed and holding it as she managed small sips in between bouts of coughing. "Plus phone calls at set intervals throughout the day?"

"Will that work for you and Daniel?" Janet pressed, passing Sam a tissue when it sounded like she was finally going to be able to cough something up.

Rolling her eyes at the fact that they were _still_ talking about her as if she wasn't in the room, Sam nevertheless took the tissue from Janet and gratefully spat out whatever it was she'd just managed to cough loose. It felt like she must have coughed up part of a lung, but she wasn't about to mention that and jeopardize returning home for who knew how long. She dropped the soiled tissue on top of the growing pile in her bedside garbage can before dutifully taking a small sip from the glass Jack was pointedly thrusting in her direction.

"Hammond's taken us off the mission rotation until Carter's back on her feet," Jack shrugged, setting the glass back down as Sam's coughing finally died away. "So we'll be around. And if we give Daniel mostly morning and evening shifts, he'll be more likely to actually go home at night."

Sam rolled her eyes again and made a mental note to relay this part of the conversation to Daniel. Maybe she could convince him to bring some work with him, just to spite Jack. And if she happened to sweet-talk Daniel into letting her help, then so much the better.

"Sounds good, sir," Janet flashed him a conspiratorial grin. They all knew Daniel would never leave base for his _own_ sake, but for one of his teammates, he'd be out on time every night. He might even leave _early_, which was practically unheard of.

"When can I go?" Sam asked quietly, her voice little more than an airy rasp by this point. "No offense, Janet, but I really just want to curl up in my own bed and sleep for a week."

"I'm just waiting on your prescription," Janet informed her friend, rubbing Sam's arm in a gesture of comfort. "We're out of a lot of antibiotics after sending SG-5 an emergency humanitarian supply shipment last night, but our re-supply should be here by 1400 hours at the latest."

"How can we be completely out?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "We're supposed to always have enough supplies to sustain a full complement of personnel for three months."

"There are almost a million people living in the refugee camp SG-5 came across," Janet explained. "It would be wasteful to stockpile that much medication with our other humanitarian supplies, since we rarely encounter off-world populations that large. We had to raid our own stores to send them any sort of effective aid package, so we're way down on a lot of supplies, at least for the morning, and what we _do_ have, I'd like to set aside in case any other teams come back with medical emergencies."

"Can whoever stops by later bring my prescription then?" Sam almost whined. She knew she sounded absolutely pitiful at the moment and was determined to press that advantage as much as she could.

"She'll be able to get more sleep if I take her now," Jack noted, glancing at the clock on the wall. "There are three teams due back this morning and they're all going to be passing through for their medicals; it'll be a madhouse in here for most of the morning."

"You can go home this morning," Janet acquiesced, caving under the weight of two sets of pleading eyes, one blue and the other brown. "But remember, you're going home to _rest_, not to work where no one can catch you at it," she added sternly.

"For once, I'm not going to argue," Sam swore, rubbing her tired eyes. "I really just want to go home so I can sleep in my own bed."

"Instructions?" Jack asked Janet, helping Sam sit up and laying a steadying hand on her shoulder when she paled suddenly and swayed dangerously in her seat.

"Try not to move around a lot," Janet offered, mentally counting how many seconds it took for her friend's color to come back. "You're already a bit unsteady and with your blood chemistry, there's a chance the medication might exacerbate that. Also, be sure to drink lots of fluids; hot liquids will feel good on your throat, but I'd like you to drink as much juice as you can so we can be sure you're getting lots of vitamins."

"Do you have groceries at home?" Jack interrupted abruptly. The blush that stained Sam's cheeks answered his question. "One of us will grab you some stuff later," he promised, rolling his eyes. To think, her and Daniel wondered why he called them his 'kids'.

"We'll save the discussion about your eating habits for another day," Janet assured, one delicate eyebrow arching pointedly. "One last thing: for the next few days, I'd like you to keep track of your temperature. If it starts fluctuating wildly, or if it passes 104°F, I want you to call the infirmary right away."

"Okay," Sam nodded. She was willing to agree to pretty much anything if it would get her out of here and home to her nice warm bed. Unfortunately, the motion served as a catalyst for her next coughing fit.

Hunching over, Sam tried to support her ribs as best she could, hoping that doing so would relieve at least some of the pain that lanced up and down her sides with each cough. Tears welled in her eyes as the fit dragged on and on, but she didn't bother trying to wipe them away. Her more immediate concern was to ease the desperate burn building in her lungs as they struggled to draw in air. She knew big gasping breaths would only prolong the fit, but her brain seemed to be having trouble getting that message out to the rest of her body.

A warm hand settled on her back, rubbing comfortingly between her shoulder blades, and a smaller hand squeezed her knee reassuringly as the coughing fit slowly eased. At least, it did until her starving lungs drew a greedy, heaving breath that was immediately expelled in a great wracking cough.

"Shallow breaths, Sam," Janet advised gently, squeezing her friend's knee again. "Once the coughing stops and your breathing has evened out again, _then_ you should go back to taking deep breaths."

"Are you _sure_ she should be going home?" Jack asked again, concern clear in his warm brown eyes. He could feel her heaving lungs under the hand that smoothed over her back and worried that she might not be able to call anyone if she got worse.

"Once she starts on the antibiotics and some cough medicine, it won't be this bad," Janet assured him, her fingers flexing again as Sam quieted down. However, even as she spoke the words, her eyes were telling Jack that she had her doubts.

Not for the first time, Janet was glad that she had at least a fundamental grasp of the silent communication that the members of SG-1 sometimes seemed to rely on more than words. A few quirks of their eyebrows and a smirk or two later, Jack and Janet had revised their plans and Sam was none the wiser.

"Are you good to go?" Jack asked, watching Sam carefully for any sign that her stubborn pride was overriding her common sense. He was pleased when she chose to simply nod in response, saving the breath she was still working so hard to suck in.

"As soon as we get the delivery, I'll have someone run your prescription over," Janet reminded as Sam got to her feet somewhat shakily. "Until then, cough medicine as per the dosage on the bottle and acetaminophen for the fever."

"I've already got that stuff at home, sir," Sam offered, pre-empting the question that danced on the tip of his tongue. Determinedly, she started for the door by herself.

"So go to your place, directly to your place, do not pass the locker room, do not collect civvies?" he checked, his hand hovering near the collar of her BDUs, ready to grab her if she stumbled.

"Please," Sam requested, flashing him a tired smile that transformed into a scowl when she spotted his hovering hand.

"Just in case," Jack defended himself, plastering his most innocent expression on his face. Considering that she only ever saw that particular look when he was up to something, he doubted she was buying it, but he tried anyway.

"Thanks, Janet," Sam wheezed over her shoulder, deciding to let his hovering go, at least for the moment. She didn't dare turn around, fearing that she would topple over and thus vindicate Jack.

"I'll drop by later and check on you," Janet promised, flicking her fingers in response to the silent wave Jack gave her as he followed Sam out into the corridor.

Janet didn't envy Jack the trip up to the surface. Sam seemed determined to walk all the way to his truck without help and would quite possibly rather lie on the floor until she found the energy to get up than admit that maybe she needed help after all. Janet had a feeling it was going to be a _very_ long trip for the both of them.


	3. Chapter 3

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Jack was paused halfway up the stairs, waiting patiently beside his gasping 2IC. One arm was wrapped securely around her waist to ensure she didn't tumble down the stairs, the other was bracing his own body against the opposite wall providing some extra stability in case she did start to fall. When the count he'd been keeping in his head reached the four minute mark and she still wasn't showing any sign of being ready to continue up the stairs, he finally gave voice to the suggestion he'd been holding in reserve since first seeing her that morning.

"Carter, do you want me to carry you?"

Blue eyes dulled by exhaustion turned to him, but the glare he expected never came. Instead, Sam's gaze roved over his face, trying to decide if he was serious in his offer. Apparently she saw something that convinced her because a few heartbeats later she was nodding tiredly. Jack was surprised that she acquiesced so easily but took it as a sign that she was feeling even worse than she was letting on.

Considering the fevered heat he could feel radiating off her quaking body and the sharp wheeze he could hear rattling around her chest, he didn't find that to be a very encouraging thought.

Balancing on the steps carefully, Jack turned to face her, sandwiching her between his body and the wall while he prepared to pick her up. He slid the arm already around her waist further up her back while bending to slip his other arm under her knees. Straightening up, he braced his shoulder against the wall until he was sure he had his balance, shifting her in his arms until he had a comfortable hold on her. When she was settled, he climbed the rest of the stairs and made his way down the hallway.

It was strange to be so familiar with his 2IC's house that he could head straight for her bedroom without having to ask where it was, but then again, with all the time Jack had spent here fixing the house up after the NID had torn it apart a few months ago, it would have been even stranger if he'd asked.

Swallowing his awkwardness, Jack stepped into the bedroom he'd spent a hot August weekend painting. Jack moved to the bed he'd helped move into place all those months ago and gently lowered Sam's exhausted form to the mattress. Grabbing her left foot in his hands, Jack's fingers made quick work of the laces on her combat boot before easing her foot out of its confines.

"You're really burning up," Jack noted, dropping the boot and nudging it under the bed before turning his attention to her other boot. "Where's your thermometer?"

When he got no answer, his attention shifted from her foot to her face. He was surprised to see that her eyes were closed, her head still in the somewhat awkward position he'd set her down in. Jack marveled at the fact that she'd managed to drop dead away in the thirty seconds or so that she'd been off her feet. _Yep_, he thought to himself, _definitely feeling worse than she's letting on_.

"Carter," Jack called quietly, wiggling the foot he still held in his hands. "Wake up."

She did, albeit reluctantly, blinking at him in confusion. Waking up at his prompting was nothing new to her, but being woken up in her bedroom, still dressed in BDUs, was definitely new territory. Wracking her brain, it took a few moments before Sam remembered what he was doing in her bedroom. The hacking cough that escaped her did a lot to jog her memory.

Removing the other boot quickly, Jack left the room and made his way down to the kitchen to grab her a glass of water. She was still coughing when he returned, curled up on her side as she fought to breathe through the fit. Jack settled himself on the edge of the bed and rubbed her back, waiting patiently for her to finish.

When she was able, Sam drew in a few shaky breaths before Jack eased her head off the bed and helped her take a few sips from the glass. She sipped gratefully, the cool water soothing her aching throat.

"Sorry for falling asleep on you, sir," she finally managed to croak out, long minutes after she'd first woken up.

"Hey, I brought you home to rest," he teased gently, setting the glass on the bedside table. "Why don't you get changed, and I'll go grab your cough medicine and stuff."

"Okay," Sam sighed, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

Jack got to his feet and scanned the room uncomfortably, realizing that although he was intimately familiar with much of Sam's house, there were still a lot of details he didn't know. "Uh… Where do you keep your pyjamas?"

"Right here, sir," Sam assured, patting the pillows behind her. In spite of herself, she bit back a smile as his discomfort warred with his desire to look after her.

"And your thermometer?"

"In the right-hand drawer in the bathroom," she wheezed, feeling another coughing fit threatening to overtake her.

"Right-o," he nodded, heading out into the hall and pulling the door shut behind him. Realizing just _whose _bathroom he was about to go rummaging through, he stopped just shy of actually closing the door and popped his head back into the bedroom. "I'm not going to find… I mean, there's no, you know, _girl_ stuff…"

"No sir," she assured and this time she didn't bother holding back her smile. "There's nothing in that drawer that will offend your tender sensibilities."

"Ha ha," he retorted, rolling his eyes and closing the door firmly behind him.

He hesitated outside the bathroom before deciding that he'd rather start in the kitchen, where he knew he'd be safe. Making his way downstairs, he went straight to the fridge and was pleasantly surprised to find that although she didn't have much in the way of food – he'd have to get Janet to include a few minutes on how limp salad, expired yogurt and, for some bizarre reason, refrigerated granola were not balanced meals the next time she broached the subject of Sam's eating habits – she was well stocked as far as juice went.

Jack was starting to suspect that she'd been feeling under the weather for a few days and had been hoping that if she pumped herself fill of enough vitamins, she'd be over it before anyone could notice she was really sick at all.

Taking in the variety of juices lining her shelves, Jack changed his approach and let the fridge door swing shut. Moving into the front hall, Jack opened the closet and found what he was looking for right away. He'd been meaning to get his cooler back since the house re-warming party they'd held in August, but now he was glad that he hadn't yet gotten around to it. Hauling the large cooler out of the closet, he carried it into the kitchen and loaded it up with all the juice out of the fridge, as well as a few bottles of water. Rifling through the freezer, he found a half a dozen ice packs and added them to the cooler before putting the lid on it. Grabbing the handles, Jack lifted the cooler and made his way back upstairs.

He set the cooler outside the bathroom and took a fortifying breath before entering the room. Right away, he noticed a bottle of cough medicine and a spoon sitting on the counter alongside a bottle of acetaminophen; more proof that Sam had been hoping she would get better before anyone could tell how sick she was. Nothing else could get Sam to take medication voluntarily. Hell, it was usually hard enough to get her to take prescriptions that she undeniably needed to be on!

Jack grabbed the medications and set them on top of the cooler. He tucked the spoon in his pocket and made a mental note to bring her a clean one from the kitchen before he left. That done, he officially ran out of reasons to procrastinate anymore.

Narrowing his eyes at the drawer he had no choice but to open, he glared, all the while daring the drawer to present him with anything embarrassing. Grabbing the handle, he yanked it open, looked inside only long enough to spot the thermometer, and then averted his eyes, reaching in blindly. His hand closed around a thermometer-shaped object and he pulled it out triumphantly, hip checking the drawer shut as soon as his hand was clear.

He set the thermometer on top of the cooler before grasping it by the handles once more and carrying it to Sam's bedroom. Kicking the door gently, he heard a muffled 'come in' and raised his left leg, balancing the cooler carefully while he twisted the doorknob. Jack nudged the door open with his shoulder before making his way inside. Looking around, he decided to set the cooler right beside the bed so that Sam wouldn't have to get up to get at it.

"Put this under your tongue," Jack instructed, handing her the thermometer. "Do you have a pen and paper in here?"

Sam was already settled under the covers and buried under the quilt her mother had made for her when she was a baby, salvaged from the wreckage of her house over the summer. He watched closely as she obediently placed the thermometer under her tongue, and then followed her finger, pointing to a pad of paper and a pen on the bedside table.

Jack placed the cough medicine and the acetaminophen on the bedside table before picking up the pad and pen and recording the date and time. When the electronic thermometer chirped a few moments later, Sam removed it from her mouth and dutifully read the number off so he could write it down.

"Are you sure you'll be okay alone?" Jack asked in concern, dropping the pen and paper to the table before stuffing his hands in his pockets. After seeing how thoroughly exhausted she was from the short trip from his truck to her bedroom, he wasn't comfortable leaving her by herself, even for a few hours. "I could stay…"

"I'll be fine," she assured, setting the thermometer on the bedside table and snuggling under the covers. "Honestly, sir, I'll probably just sleep for most of the day."

"Okay," he agreed reluctantly. "Do you need anything else before I go?"

"No, sir,"

"All right then, I guess I'll skedaddle," he decided, backing towards the door. "Is it okay if I go through the kitchen and make up a list of groceries for someone to bring by later?"

"You don't have to do that, sir," Sam choked out before another spat of coughing consumed her. Fortunately, this one was relatively short-lived.

"Actually, I do," Jack argued once she had fallen silent again. "Your fridge is even emptier than mine."

"Thanks, sir," Sam conceded, turning on to her side. "My wallet is in…"

"Forget it," he waved her off as he stepped out into the hall. "It's no big deal; you eat like a bird anyway."

"Thank you," Sam breathed, gratefully, her eyes already drifting shut as sleep beckoned her weary body.

"One of us will be by later, but we'll send someone over as soon as Frasier can fill your prescription," he reminded, carefully choosing his words so that he updated her on the new plan he and Janet had reached earlier without getting into a debate about it with Sam. "Until then, just sleep and focus on getting better.

He didn't get a response; Sam was already fast asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Jack cursed as the phone rang again before he had located the handset. Following the sound into the living room, he spotted the annoyingly loud object he was searching for on top of the coffee table. He hurried across the room, managing to snatch the phone up and press the 'talk' button all before the third ring ended.

"What?" he demanded, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't answering his own phone.

"Jack?" the familiar voice of Daniel replied. The archaeologist's confusion was evident and he apologized hurriedly, knowing that no good ever came from Jack using _that _tone with anyone. "Sorry, I thought I dialed Sam."

"You did," the older man replied, keeping his voice down. "She's asleep and I want her to stay that way."

"Oh," came the response. Daniel was obviously confused about why Jack was still hanging around Sam's house if she was asleep, but apparently he decided that there were some questions he was better off not asking. "How is she?"

"She's feeling pretty rough," Jack replied, making his way back into the kitchen to finish up the grocery list he was writing. "Not that she's saying so. Did Frasier swing by to talk to you?"

"She just left," Daniel informed him. "I'm on my way to talk to General Hammond and see if he'll clear me to leave in a few hours so I can head over to Sam's," he added. "You and Janet are right, she shouldn't be alone right now."

"Carter's still under the impression that we're taking turns dropping in on her morning, noon and night," Jack warned, jamming the phone against his shoulder while he rifled through Sam's cupboards in search of soup. "She's not going to be happy when she finds out we're taking turns babysitting her."

"She'll get over it," Daniel stated confidently, although it was clear that he was a little concerned about how long that could take. "Pneumonia is no fun and Janet seems pretty convinced that she's going to get worse before she gets better. Sam _has_ to know we aren't just going to leave her by herself."

"She knows," Jack agreed. With a triumphant flourish, he managed to dig out a single package of chicken noodle soup, tucked away behind more than a dozen cans of food for a cat Sam had given away years ago. Go figure. "But Carter believes in the power of wishful thinking."

"How much longer can you stay?"

"I have a meeting with Hammond at 1215," Jack replied, giving up on searching Sam's cupboards and instead drafting the grocery list based on what he figured she'd need. "If I drive fast, I can stay until noon."

"Okay," Daniel said slowly, although it was obvious that he thought it was anything but okay, given that Sam lived half an hour away from the SGC. "How about you leave at _quarter to_ noon and drive at something approximating the speed limit instead? I'll see about leaving around two; that'll give me time to finish the translation for SG-7 and Sam's prescription should be ready by then, so I can bring it over and save someone else the trip."

"I think she'll be okay on her own for a few hours," Jack agreed. "But you'll need to stop for groceries, unless you don't mind eating cat food for dinner."

"What?"

"Never mind," Jack smirked, ripping the list off the pad Sam kept in the kitchen. Folding the piece of paper until it would fit, he pocketed it. "Can I give you the list this afternoon?"

"Sure," Daniel agreed. "Should I let you go?"

"Yeah," Jack agreed, shutting the cupboards he'd left open as quietly as possible. "I don't want to wake up our favourite light sleeping astrophysicist."

"Okay," Daniel agreed. "See you in a few hours."

"Yep," Jack agreed before hanging up.

He made his way back into the living room and placed the phone back where he found it before glancing at his watch. He had half an hour to kill before heading back to the mountain, but many stints of medical leave throughout his career had taught him that daytime TV offered nothing that would hold his attention. His gaze landed on the bookshelves that lined one wall of the living room and he decided to spend the time looking for a book that might help him understand more than ten percent of what came out of his 2IC's mouth.


	5. Chapter 5

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

He let the phone ring once before hanging up. Counting to ten, he pressed the redial button and let it ring twice, then hung up again. The next time, he waited only five seconds before hitting redial, following the instructions he'd been given to the letter. As he'd been warned, the phone would only be answered on the third ring of the third call.

"What?" the voice on the other end snapped impatiently.

"She's home alone," he said calmly, not letting the other man's irritation bother him.

"So?"

"_So_, O'Neill dropped her off a little while ago. She needed his help getting inside, by the way, she was weak as a kitten. He was on the phone with Jackson a while later…"

"I assume you have a point?"

"She has pneumonia," he stated, irked that he was being rushed. "She's expecting someone from the mountain to drop by with a prescription early this afternoon, and Jackson is leaving the base early to stay the night with her. But for now, she's alone in the house; O'Neill just left."

"How long do we have before someone drops by?"

"There was no hard ETA," he explained patiently, glad that his call was finally being taken seriously. "They're waiting for a re-supply before they can bring her prescription over and they expect to have that by 1400 hours. Jackson is coming over whenever he wraps up some translation or other, but he's aiming to be out by 1400. Basically, the sooner we do it, the better," he advised.

"Someone will be over within the hour with the supplies you'll need," his employer decided after only a few seconds of consideration. "Make it happen."

"Yes, sir," he smiled to himself, even as the other man hung up on him.

Finally, all the mind-numbing hours of watching her house and listening in on inane conversations were about to pay off. Snapping his phone shut, he tossed it on the seat beside him and leaned back. Settling in for the final stretch, he occupied himself with thoughts of what his next assignment might be.

**A/N: **Ah, suspense! Hopefully this has been enough to whet your appetite for this fic. Watch for another update tomorrow and remember, reviews make my world go round!


	6. Chapter 6

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

A persistent knocking cut through the heavy fog of sleep that had wrapped itself around Sam's exhausted body. With a groan, she forced her eyes open and rolled over, kicking her way out from the tangle of blankets trying to keep her in bed. She shivered in the chilly air outside of her little cocoon and got to her feet somewhat unsteadily. The knocking sounded again and she shuffled out of her bedroom, grabbing her robe and pulling it on as she slowly made her way downstairs.

When she reached the front door, alternatively gasping and coughing harshly, she pulled back the thin curtain to check out who was standing on her doorstep. Taking note of the SF uniform the man was wearing and the paper bad he held in his hand, Sam realized that Janet must have sent him over to deliver her prescription. Turning to the state-of-the-art security system console in the hall, Sam quickly deactivated the alarm before unlocking the door and pulling it open with a tired smile.

"Sorry to disturb you, ma'am," the SF apologized sincerely, his eyes raking over her disheveled and clearly just woken up form, "Doctor Frasier asked me to deliver this," he held out the paper bag, "and to make sure you were all right.

"Thank you, sergeant," Sam wheezed, accepting the bag as a new wave of wracking coughs stole over her.

Reaching out, she pressed a hand to the doorframe, bracing herself as the force of the fit left her swaying on her feet. A steadying hand landed on her shoulder and stayed there even after the coughing had finally subsided. Drawing a shaky breath, Sam flashed the man a grateful smile, appreciating his help in keeping her feet under her.

"Are you sure you're okay alone, ma'am?" he checked, his hand still gripping her shoulder firmly.

"Someone will be by in a few hours to check up on me again," she croaked reassuringly, shivering as the cool November air danced across her feverish skin. "I'll be fine until then." She appreciated the concern he was showing, but all she wanted to do was get back in bed and go back to sleep.

"All right, ma'am," he conceded, pleased with her answer.

Quick as a flash, he jammed his free hand into his pocket and whipped out a syringe. He uncapped it with his teeth, watching as Sam's eyes went wide, realizing the mistake she'd just made. Sam tried to shrug off his now restraining hand to no avail and threw an arm out, trying to slam her hand down on the just out of reach keypad of the security system. When her hand fell short of its goal, a wave of disappointment washed over her; she could be a difficult victim, yes, but she had little chance of fending off an attack in her present condition.

The man masquerading as an SF yanked her towards him, easily dodging the uncoordinated attack she launched and managed to slide the tip of the syringe into the pale skin at the base of her neck. He depressed the plunger quickly, draining the sedative into the body still struggling against his grip. Dropping the now useless syringe to the mat in the front hall, he gave it a gentle kick and sent it rolling under the small oak table in the hallway.

Sam finally went limp, her eyes rolling back in her head as she succumbed to the effects of the sedative now swimming through her veins. Her attacker easily swung her unconscious body into his arms and made his way outside, pulling the front door most of the way shut behind him. Making his way calmly down the front path, he started towards the waiting car.

"Oh dear! Is she all right?" a gravelly voice called out, carrying easily down the quiet street.

He cursed in his head before turning in the direction the voice had come from, knowing that if he carried on as though he hadn't heard, it would only attract more attention to his presence. When his eyes landed on an elderly woman, he realized that he still had a chance to make a clean getaway. He gave her a reassuring smile and responded with the lie he'd had waiting, just in case something like this happened.

"I think Major Carter just passed out, ma'am, but I'm taking her back to Cheyenne Mountain, just to make sure."

"She looked positively _dreadful_ when Colonel O'Neill brought her home," the old woman tutted, shaking her head disapprovingly. "I _told_ him she had no business being alone, but he said it would be all right for a few hours and then someone would be over to stay with her until she was feeling better… Probably one of her teammates. Lovely men, they are, always so polite and friendly…"

"Pardon me, ma'am," he interrupted, working hard to keep his irritation at the delay out of his voice. He made a show of shifting Sam's dead weight awkwardly and casting a worried look over her. "But I really should get the major back to the base."

"Oh, yes dear, of course," she replied, shooing him with her hands. "Go, go!"

Calmly, he turned and continued to the waiting car. When he arrived, he made a show of gently setting Sam in the passenger seat and doing up her seatbelt, playing the role of the concerned co-worker to its fullest. When she was safely tucked away, he closed the door and jogged around to the driver's side, sliding in and starting the engine up right away.

Just minutes after he'd arrived, he was leaving the scene of his crime, Samantha Carter's unconscious body at his side, and in spite of all the safety precautions her teammates had put in place in the last few months, no one was the wiser.


	7. Chapter 7

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Daniel pulled up outside Sam's house, parked alongside the curb and shut off his car. Gathering the paper bags full of groceries and Sam's prescription, he decided his hands were full enough right now; he'd come back for his overnight bag later. With a little effort and a whole lot of contorting, he managed to open the door, push it open and climb out of the vehicle without squishing anything too badly. He closed the car door with his hip before turning and making his way up to the front door, tucking his chin down when the late autumn breeze picked up and managed to work its way under the collar of his jacket. He had to look over the top of his glasses to see where he was going, making the world fuzzy and more than a little out of focus, but he'd been to Sam's house so many times that he could navigate the uneven walkway stones from memory and managed to avoid tripping on any of them. As he got closer to the house, the exterior slowly slid into focus and he realized that the front door was slightly ajar. Daniel blinked once, checking that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him and when he opened them again, his heart constricted and a ball of dread formed in the pit of his stomach.

Setting the paper bags on the lawn, Daniel turned and hurried back to his car, glancing over his shoulder every few steps. When he arrived, he made a point of positioning his body behind the passenger door and the meager cover it provided. Reaching into the glove compartment, Daniel removed the weapon he'd gotten into the habit of storing there whenever he left the house. Years ago, when Jack had first started insisting that Daniel never leave his house unarmed, the archaeologist had loathed the routine, but now he was grateful the gun was there.

Daniel loaded the weapon with one of the clips he kept in his jacket pocket at all times before he slammed the car door shut. Although he was armed now, he didn't feel any better about the situation or about being caught out in the open, the expanse of lawn he had to cross in order to get to the house offering him nothing in the way of cover. Jogging back up to the walkway, Daniel shouldered the front door open and stepped inside, sweeping the gun around the room. As his eyes raked over the front hall, he took note of the paper bag lying on the floor and the deactivated security system, his dread growing with each passing second.

"Sam?" he called loudly, his ears straining to pick up any hint of sound in the silent house.

Not hearing anything but the blood pounding in his ears, Daniel slowly and carefully made his way through the main level, clearing it one room at a time. He wished the floor plan was more open; the many rooms connected by narrow hallways complicated his search. When his sweep of the main floor turned up nothing, he worked his way upstairs cautiously. From one room to the next, he failed to find any trace of either Sam or an intruder, yet he followed the training the SGC had drilled into him and went through each room before turning his attention to the attic. When the uppermost level of the house also failed to turn up anything, he whipped out his cell phone and called Jack.

"O'Neill," his friend answered brusquely, picking up on the first ring. It was a sure sign that he had been confined to his desk until his paperwork was finished and was already bored out of his mind. Although his news would get the older man a free pass out of his office, Daniel knew Jack would prefer the paperwork to what was to come.

"Something's happened to Sam," Daniel stated matter of factly. His voice sounded much calmer than he felt, his heart racing as his mind presented him with a thousand possible explanations for Sam's disappearance, each worst than the last. Making his way back outside as he spoke, he explained: "The front door was open when I got here and she's not in the house."

"The alarm didn't go off," Jack argued, even as he was no doubt checking his cell phone, just to make sure. The alarm system had been installed over the summer after someone – most likely the NID, though they'd never been able to prove it – had broken into Sam's house and spray painted threats on the walls. As an added security measure, the system had been set up to send alerts to Jack's cell phone and General Hammond's office line whenever the alarm was triggered.

"It's deactivated," Daniel informed him, stepping outside and blinking against the bright November sunshine that assaulted his eyes.

"Doctor Jackson!" a familiar voice called, reverberating eerily up and down the still, quiet street.

Looking up, Daniel saw Moira Smithson, Sam's elderly neighbor, ambling over to him. She was a sweet woman, but she had a tendency to be rather talkative and Daniel wasn't in the mood for polite conversation right now. However, since Mrs. Smithson also tended to be nosy and keep careful tabs on all the neighborhood goings-on, he figured it wouldn't hurt to speak with her and see if she had noticed anything suspicious lately.

"One second," Daniel said into the phone, knowing it would push Jack's patience to the limit and not bothering to wait for the no doubt snippy reply that would come. To the woman hurrying over, thick woolen shawls flapping in the breeze, he asked, "Mrs. Smithson, did you see anyone hanging around Sam's house today?"

"No, dear," the old woman replied, tucking wisps of flyaway grey hair behind her ears. "Why?"

"She's missing," Daniel replied distractedly, scanning the houses up and down the street. He wondered if it would be worthwhile to knock on a few doors and see if any of Sam's other neighbors might have seen something. In the suburbs, there were usually very few people around on a weekday morning and even fewer with nothing better to do than spy on their neighbors – Mrs. Smithson was the exception in Sam's neighborhood, not the rule – but still, it couldn't hurt to try.

"Didn't anyone tell you, dear?" Mrs. Smithson asked, blinking at him in surprise from behind her big horn-rimmed glasses.

"Tell me what?" Daniel pressed, trying to decide which house to start at. Not for the first time, he wished each house on the street had its own driveway; street parking kept him from being able to simply knock on the doors of houses that had cars in their driveways.

"That nice young man from Cheyenne Mountain stopped by to check on her earlier and took her back with him," she stated, snapping Daniel's full attention back to her. "He was worried because Samantha lost consciousness, so he was going to take her to see a doctor."

Daniel's brain raced to process this new information and reconcile it with what he knew to be true. No one from the SGC had been by to check up on Sam, knowing that she needed to sleep as much as possible. Besides, it hadn't been necessary. He had told Janet that he would bring the prescription himself when he came to stay the night, and had gotten General Hammond's permission to leave as soon as the re-supply shipment arrived. But Sam hadn't had any way of knowing that and probably would have opened the door to someone in uniform if she had reason to believe that they were making the delivery. That explained both the paper bag in the hallway and why the security system was deactivated.

On top of that, Daniel knew with absolute certainty that Sam hadn't been taken to the infirmary; he'd been there less than an hour ago and he hadn't seen her. Even if she'd been brought in after he'd left, Janet would have called either him or Jack, probably both, to let them know.

All things considered, Daniel could only come up with one possible explanation for Sam's disappearance and it stopped his blood cold. Lifting his phone back to his ear, he shared his conclusion with Jack.

"The NID has Sam."


	8. Chapter 8

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Jack arrived, brakes screeching in protest at the rough treatment they were being subjected to. He shifted into park even though his truck was in the middle of the street, stopping directly in front of Sam's house. Leaving the engine idling, he hopped out and ordered a nearby airman who didn't look to be doing anything useful at the moment to park the truck somewhere. Although the young man looked confused, he had the good sense not to argue and scrambled to obey the order, hopping into the driver's seat and maneuvering the hulking truck around the many vehicles already lining the street. Jack didn't bother watching to see where his vehicle ended up, figuring that if worse came to worse, he could simply order someone to find it for him later. After all, what good was being a colonel if he couldn't abuse his power once in a while?

Turning in a slow circle, he noted the members of a forensics team combing his 2IC's front lawn, presumably looking for evidence, while individuals from one of the base's security teams questioned the gaggle of neighbors that had assembled across the street from the epicenter of the disruption to their quiet suburban lives. Given the chaotic scene playing out before him, Jack quickly settled on the fastest way to get a much-needed update on the situation.

"Daniel!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. The various people milling about jumped and turned startled eyes on him, but the glare he cast about was enough to divert their attention back to their assigned tasks. To Jack's disappointment, his archaeologist failed to appear.

"Daniel Jackson is inside overseeing the forensic examination of the house, O'Neill," Teal'c's deep voice rumbled from his left, causing Jack's head to swivel back around, searching for his friend.

He spotted the Jaffa marching up from the street, Mrs. Smithson ambling along at his side. The elderly woman looked to be beside herself, and Jack made an effort to reign in his temper. After all, it wasn't her fault Sam was missing; she'd truly believed that the man who'd taken her had been trying to help and hadn't wanted to delay her receiving medical attention. Jack certainly couldn't hold that against her.

"What do we know?" Jack asked, falling into step beside Teal'c and making his way up to the front door with the unlikely pair.

"A syringe was found in the front hall," Teal'c apprised, nodding for Mrs. Smithson to precede him through the open front door. "It is currently _en route_ to Cheyenne Mountain for testing, however we suspect that the syringe was used to sedate Major Carter."

"The poor dear," Mrs. Smithson breathed shakily, tears shining in her eyes. The distraught woman wrung her hands and looked apologetically at her missing neighbor's two teammates. "Oh, I should have called someone right away!"

"It's not your fault, Mrs. Smithson. It wouldn't have made much of a difference anyway," Daniel assured gently, joining them in the front hall. He'd heard Jack's dulcet tones beckoning him out to the front yard and had been on his way out to meet him, but he was happy to be delivering his update in the relative calm of the house instead of the hectic atmosphere outside. For Jack's benefit, Daniel added, "I arrived about an hour after they left. Even if she'd called one of us, we would have missed them by at least half an hour."

"Do we have a description of the guy? Or the car?" Jack asked, pressing against the wall behind him to let a member of the forensics team squeeze outside.

"Both," Teal'c replied, smiling appreciatively at the woman beside him. "Mrs. Smithson has been a most helpful witness."

"Did the president…?" Daniel began, blue eyes shining hopefully from behind the wire frames of his glasses.

"We have jurisdiction," Jack interrupted, scanning the front hall for anything suspicious or our of place that the forensics team might have missed. "The local authorities have been ordered to co-operate with us, and Hammond's put the SGC's full resources at our disposal. Everyone wants her found."

His wandering eyes landed on Daniel and the two shared a look filled with mutual worry for their missing teammate. Jack saw the same feeling of responsibility eating away at his insides mirrored in Daniel's eyes and shook his head almost imperceptibly, trying to convince the other man that it wasn't his fault. Daniel returned the favor, but it did nothing to ease the sickening twist of guilt knotted in Jack's stomach.

"Doctor Jackson," one of the forensic technicians called loudly, snapping Daniel's head towards the kitchen. A moment later, a man rounded the corner and entered the increasingly cramped front hallway before stopping in surprise. "Colonel O'Neill, sir!" the young man yelped, snapping briefly to attention before Jack waved him off.

"Teal'c, can you walk Mrs. Smithson home and make sure she's got a direct line to Hammond, in case she remembers anything else?" Jack instructed, sharing a pointed look with his teammate.

"It would be my honor to do so," Teal'c replied, nodding his understanding that he was to keep an eye out for anything suspicious in the older woman's house.

Teal'c led her out into the semi-controlled chaos of the front yard and Jack watched the pair make their way down the sidewalk before disappearing from sight. He didn't figure Mrs. Smithson was in any real danger – the NID had managed to get away with Sam and the older woman had already given a statement about what she'd seen, so there was no reason for them to come back and get rid of her now – but it didn't hurt to have a practiced eye give Mrs. Smithson's house a once over.

"What did you find?" Daniel asked impatiently, turning Jack's attention back to the technician.

"There was a tap on the major's phone," the young man informed the two SG-1 members apologetically. "We definitely cleared the house after the incident over the summer, sirs; I guarantee this is something installed after that."

"Anything else?"

"No, sir, I'm sorry," he answered sincerely, a slight grimace crossing his face at the apparent lack of progress in determining what had happened to Sam.

"Okay, thank you, Lieutenant," Jack dismissed, running a frustrated hand through his short hair. As soon as the young man had scampered off to do whatever it was he was supposed to be doing, Jack cursed angrily.

"We couldn't have known," Daniel reasoned patiently, even though he agreed with his friend's sentiment. "We did everything we could to keep her as safe as possible, but we knew we couldn't be around all the time."

"But this, today, I _should_ have been around," Jack growled. "She couldn't even make it up the stairs and I left her alone."

"You're not the only one who could have dropped everything to stay with her but didn't," the archaeologist argued, voicing his own guilt. At the time, he'd really it would be okay to wrap up some work before heading over to stay with Sam for the night. Now, he'd give anything to go back in time and make a different decision. "We're all responsible for what happened _and _for finding her."

"Hammond's got Walter keeping an eye on all flight plans departing from anywhere within driving distance," the older man informed him tersely, quashing down on his guilt and focusing on the task at hand. He appreciated that Daniel was trying to help, but he was in no mood for a pep talk. At the moment, all he wanted was to find Sam and beat the crap out of whatever scumbags had grabbed her from the supposed safety of her own home. "If the NID tries to move her by air, we'll know."

"I do hope you're not putting all your eggs in one basket, Colonel," a haughty voice stated smugly from behind him.

Whipping around, their attention turned to the newcomer, Daniel and Jack both felt their blood begin to boil.


	9. Chapter 9

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"Where the hell is she?" Jack demanded, his voice low and dangerous. He stepped forward menacingly, glowering at the man hovering just inside the front door.

"_I_ certainly don't know where Major Carter is," Frank Simmons scoffed, leaning casually against the doorframe and slipping his hands into his pants pockets. "Though I do hope you find her. She's an invaluable resource that this government relies on."

"She's not a _resource_, she's a _person_," Jack snapped, every muscle tense with barely restrained fury. Of their own volition, his hands clenched into fists and he struggled to maintain enough of a grip on his self-control to keep from punching the other man out… At least until he'd gotten the information he wanted, anyway. After that, Jack couldn't make any promises.

"What are you doing here?" Daniel interjected, getting straight to the point. He was trying to minimize the number of opportunities Simmons had to say something that would make Jack snap, lest the local police officers now assembling outside decide to intervene and arrest Jack for assaulting the NID agent. Not that Daniel expected Simmons to make it easy – after all, the man had all but turned colonel baiting into a sport – but still, he was determined to try.

"I had a meeting scheduled with General Hammond this afternoon," Simmons snapped testily, brushing imaginary lint off his grey pinstripe suit as someone brushed past him on their way back into the house. "Needless to say, he's asked to reschedule in light of this unfortunate turn of events."

"What are you doing _here_?" Jack clarified, gritting his teeth so hard Daniel swore he could hear the enamel cracking.

"Offering the full resources of the NID to help you locate Major Carter," Simmons replied, the self-satisfied smirk he wore serving only to ratchet Jack's anger up another notch.

"Great! Do you want to tell us where she is, or would you rather I get a map and you can just point?"

"I hope for the major's sake you're willing to consider other possible explanations for her disappearance," Simmons retorted, turning on his heel and making his way out the door. "Otherwise you might never see her again."

Reflexes honed by five years on an active field unit allowed Daniel to catch Jack as the older man launched himself at Simmons' retreating back. Grabbing Jack's shoulder, Daniel managed to stop him in his tracks and redirect his friend, manhandling him into the kitchen instead. Jack didn't make it easy, but once Daniel had maneuvered him into the kitchen, he stopped struggling and moved away, his fists clenching and unclenching at random intervals. The pair were silent for a few long moments before Daniel decided to brave his friend's temper and try to reason with him.

"He might genuinely not know where she is," Daniel stated firmly, keeping his body between Jack and the door.

"_You're_ the one who said the NID had her," Jack thundered, pacing back and forth across the kitchen in agitation, glad to have finally found an outlet for all the restless energy demanding that he do something, anything, to find Sam _now_.

"And I still think that's true," Daniel rebutted, keeping a careful eye on his friend. He fully expected Jack to make at least one more attempt to go after Simmons and needed to be prepared to stop him. "But the NID compartmentalizes information, you know that. It's possible that the NID has Sam and Simmons doesn't know about it."

"Carter is _missing_, Daniel," Jack snarled, turning to unleash the full force of his glare on him. "How the hell can you be so calm?"

"Because one of us has to be!" His patience was wearing thin and Daniel couldn't keep himself from snapping back this time. "I'm worried and scared and feeling just as guilty as you are, but more than anything, I'm desperate to find Sam! I'm not going to say 'no' to anyone offering to help find her, regardless of how I feel about them, and it would be nice if you could start taking the same approach!"

"I don't trust him, Daniel," Jack sighed, thumping his hands down on the kitchen counter in frustration.

"Neither do I," Daniel agreed, making a conscious effort to calm himself down. They were both worried sick about Sam; fighting with one another wasn't going to help them find her any faster. "But we don't have a lot to go on right now, Jack. We need all the help we can get. Besides if Simmons _is_ involved, it'll be easier to keep tabs on him if we involve him in the search."

"Yeah," Jack agreed dejectedly. Loathe as he was to admit it, there was a logic to what Daniel was saying; including Simmons could very well be their best chance of finding Sam.

With a heavy sigh that spoke volumes about his reluctance to do so, Jack squeezed past Daniel and made his way outside to find Simmons and make nice. Daniel was right – they needed all the help they could get.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **For everyone who is wondering, yes, we _are_ going to start learning about what happened to poor Sam very, very soon. But first, we'll check in with each of the boys and see how they're doing. And now on with the show. Enjoy!

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Jack knew, had always known, that he was not a patient man. He needed to be _doing_, not waiting around until someone gave him permission to _get _to the doing; hence at least _some _of the many black marks that marred his personnel file. But he was beginning to realize that there were worse things than sitting around waiting for authorization to take action. Yep, Jack was coming to understand that it was infinitely harder to have authorization to act but to have no information on which _to_ act.

Not for the first time that afternoon, Jack pushed himself off the couch he'd only settled on a few moments ago and made his way outside, leaving Daniel and Teal'c to man the impromptu command post they had established in Sam's living room. He could feel his teammates concerned eyes on his retreating back, but he knew they would respect his need to have a few moments to himself.

Nodding at random SGC personnel he passed along the way, he was relieved to finally step outside into the cool, crisp air of a late autumn afternoon. Sliding the glass door shut behind him, Jack effectively cut himself off from the flurry of activity inside his missing teammate's house, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He drew in a large lungful of air before exhaling slowly, trying to expel some of the worry that gnawed at his gut. It had been over five hours since he had arrived and they were no closer to finding Sam than they had been then. Aside from Mrs. Smithson, none of her neighbors had seen anything suspicious, no one recognized the car or the man who had taken her, and neither he, nor Sam, nor the vehicle had been spotted in the intervening hours. Feeling helpless wasn't a new experience for Jack, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with right now.

Crossing the small wooden deck, he rested his arms on top of the low railing around the perimeter and looked out over the sun-dappled yard. A moment later, he was straightening up again, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the item that had poked into his upper thigh. Staring at the spoon, the helpless feeling was replaced by a fresh wave of guilt, this one even stronger than the previous ones.

In his haste to get back to the base for his meeting with the general, he had forgotten to take another trip upstairs and leave Sam a clean spoon for her cough medicine. Jack realized it might seem ridiculous that a spoon could leave him feeling wracked with guilt, but at the moment, the utensil was a reminder that he had made a terrible mistake. Yet again, he berated himself for leaving Sam alone when she wasn't up to defending herself, should the need arise. Mrs. Smithson had been confident there had only been one man involved in the kidnapping; Jack knew for certain that, had she been well, one man never would have been able to abduct his 2IC without her putting up one hell of a fight and drawing all sorts of attention to the scene.

It would probably sound paranoid to just about anyone else, but Jack knew better than most how big a target Sam had worn ever since Jolinar had crawled inside her head, having sat in on many a meeting during which individuals representing various branches of the government and military lobbied General Hammond for permission to essentially use Sam as a lab rat. They all claimed to be interested in protecting Earth, but Jack knew most of them simply wanted to satisfy their own curiosity – how Goa'uld hand devices worked, how much of their thoughts hosts and symbiotes shared, what changes her time as a host had wrought on Sam's body – and didn't give a damn about what their answers would cost her. To make matters worse, most groups' interest only seemed to grow after each unusual experience or freaky alien encounter, culminating in _everyone_ demanding the opportunity to pick Sam's brain when word got out that she had accessed an honest to goodness Ancient's thoughts a few months ago.

To date, General Hammond had done a bang up job of shielding Sam from the requests made through official channels, and the older man had an agreement with Jack that the task of protecting her from _unofficial_ channels fell to her teammates. That, Jack knew, was why he felt so terrible at the moment. Hammond had approved every measure Jack had requested to try and keep her safe, and yet one bad decision had still given the NID – every instinct he had screamed at him that they were responsible – all the opportunity they needed to grab her and disappear.

Heaving a sigh, Jack rolled the spoon back and forth between his fingers, watching the sunlight play off its shiny surface. He knew it was hypocritical to be out here blaming himself for Sam's disappearance, knowing full well that as soon as he went back inside he'd be chastising Daniel for doing the same thing, but he couldn't help it. He'd always felt a strong sense of responsibility for the people under his command, although never quite as much as he felt for his current teammates, and as such, he couldn't _not_ blame himself.

"Where the hell are you, Carter?" Jack asked quietly, the words escaping his lips on another sigh.

He wasn't surprised when the still backyard gave up no answers.


	11. Chapter 11

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Teal'c closed the door to the basement quietly behind him, glad to have managed to steal a few moments to himself after spending the better part of the day surrounded by increasingly worried people. His fingers fumbled on the unfamiliar expanse of wall to his right before finding the light switch and flicking it upwards, bathing the windowless room in pale light.

Looking around, Teal'c studied the room curiously. He had only been in here once before and at the time, the space had been serving as storage for a random assortment of construction materials. As such, it had looked very different, not really reflecting the personality of the person who lived here. Now, the room held an assortment of Air Force paraphernalia, science journals and scattered engine parts, presumably belonging to the partially disassembled motorcycle currently under a tarp out in the backyard. Although eclectic, the room screamed 'Sam,' giving visitors to this level a glimpse of the complex woman who owned the house.

Making the most of the brief snippet of solitude he'd managed to steal, Teal'c settled himself cross-legged on the floor and took a series of deep breaths, trying to slip into a light state of kel'no'reem. He hoped that the meditation would ease some of the worry chasing through his veins and calm his frazzled nerves.

He'd spent most of the afternoon with his teammates, waiting in vain for news on Sam's disappearance. With no news and no clues to follow up on, they had been forced to merely wait for something, anything, that they could act on. Although he knew both men well enough to recognize their behavior throughout the day as being borne of concern for their missing teammate, Jack's constant restlessness and the testy bickering that flew back and forth between the two still tested Teal'c's patience and in the end, he'd slipped away before he could throw his own frustration at their lack of progress into the mix.

Despite his best efforts to clear his mind, Teal'c found he was unable to completely erase all traces of the worry and fear that threatened to consume him. It wasn't long before he started to lose hope that he would be capable of achieving kel'no'reem any time soon; he couldn't keep his mind from racing long enough to lose himself in the comforting familiarity of meditation. Opening his eyes, he let his gaze wander over his surroundings once more, giving kel'no'reem up as a lost cause.

It was so easy to picture Sam down here, covered with grease and lost in thought as she tinkered with engine parts, or rifling through a pile of science journals, her brow furrowed in concentration as she searched for a piece of information that would make the pieces of whatever puzzle she was turning over in her head fall into place. For some reason he couldn't explain, Teal'c found it reassuring, almost like a promise that she would return to this place that was so obviously hers.

Rising gracefully to his feet, Teal'c got back to his feet and took one more look around the basement, letting the sense of certainty that the room had infused him with strengthen his resolve to find his missing teammate.

A long minute later, he flicked off the light and made his way back up to the living room, determined to convince the others still upstairs to eat, even though none of them had much of an appetite to speak of right now.


	12. Chapter 12

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Daniel paced around tiredly, his eyes periodically straying to the unmade bed in the centre of the room. The blankets were flung to one side, giving every indication that its former occupant had planned to come back and slide under the covers again. More than anything, Daniel wished she would. His imagination had spent hours tormenting him with images of all the things that could be happening to Sam at any given moment. No matter how many times he tried to force himself to envision it, he couldn't summon up an image of Sam tucked back in bed, safe and sound; his mind seemed determined to assail him with images of worst-case scenarios.

As if the empty bed didn't make him feel guilty enough, every once in a while, Daniel forgot to turn his head in time and would catch a glimpse of the medication on the bedside table. The prescription he'd brought over that afternoon had joined the cough medicine and the acetaminophen, ready and waiting for Sam to come home. Each time he spotted the bottles, Daniel berated himself for not arriving at Sam's house in time to foil the kidnapping. His reasoning had seemed sound at the time, but now Daniel wondered what on Earth he'd been thinking, believing that she would be all right alone, even for a few hours.

Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, Daniel saw that it was now after two in the morning and sighed tiredly. They still hadn't uncovered any new information that could help them find Sam, and she had now been gone for over twelve hours. Although he 'd been determined to remain optimistic, Daniel could almost feel her slipping further and further away with each hour that passed by without a lead on her whereabouts. Panic had slowly given way to frustration and now despair was threatening to swallow him whole. Despite the toll it was taking on those around him, Daniel clung to his frustration almost desperately, determined not to give up hope until Sam was back home where she belonged.

Heaving a sigh, Daniel decided that hiding out in his missing friend's bedroom wasn't helping anyone. Although there wasn't much he could do _anywhere_ right now, at least he felt like he was lending Jack and Teal'c moral support when they sat around in sullen silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Rather than pacing restlessly and drowning in regrets, he'd join the others downstairs and wait for news, drinking coffee by the gallon so he could blame the anxious, sick feeling eating away at his insides on having consumed too much caffeine.

Before he left the bedroom, Daniel straightened the covers on the bed, smoothing the wrinkles out of the sheets with a careful hand. He left the blankets folded back on one side, hoping it would be easier to tuck Sam into bed when they finally found her. When he was done that, he fluffed and straightened the pillows, buying himself a few more moments alone.

"Daniel!" The familiar holler rang out from downstairs and snapped him into action.

Racing to the stairs, Daniel's heart jumped into his throat. He knew Jack well enough to understand every inflection of his voice, to pick up the restrained excitement and the cautious hope in his friend's voice. His spirits buoyed, Daniel bounded down the short flight of stairs, nearly colliding with Jack when he reached the bottom step. He had to slap his hand against the wall to keep from slamming into the other man and tumbling to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

"Did we find her?" Daniel demanded breathlessly, his heart pounding in anticipation.

"No, but we found the car," Jack replied. He rested a hand on the younger man's shoulder, both to brace himself and to offer his friend a quick reassuring squeeze. "It was parked at an airfield just outside of Denver. Walter's checking flight plans right now."

"Do you really think the NID is dumb enough to file a flight plan?" Daniel pressed skeptically, voicing the thought that had been nagging at him since early this afternoon when Jack had first announced that they would be monitoring flights closely.

"At this point, I'm hoping they are," Jack retorted, marching back into the kitchen where Teal'c and a smattering of SGC personnel were waiting for news. Daniel followed him silently, wishing he could share the older man's optimism.

"Sergeant Harriman reports that only one flight departed from the location in question, O'Neill," Teal'c informed his teammates upon seeing them return to the kitchen. He was sitting around the table with several other SGC personnel, all with large cups of steaming hot coffee in front of them to help them get through the wee hours of the morning. "The flight plan indicated that it was destined for a remote locale in your state of Alaska."

"It's a decoy, a distraction, whatever you want to call it, but Sam's not there," Daniel stated flatly, hating that he had been right; he'd _known _the NID wouldn't make it so easy to find her. He wrapped his arms around himself and took a deep breath, trying to quell the uncomfortably familiar feeling of hopelessness that washed over him.

"Agreed," Jack pitched in, disappointment clear in his voice even though his facial expression gave nothing away. "They want us to waste time running off to Alaska while they move her."

"What if this is for real?" Reynolds asked quietly, glancing at the others in the room with bloodshot eyes. He'd gotten back from a long, hard mission and, upon learning about Sam's kidnapping, had headed straight over to do whatever he could to help. Even though there was nothing to do at the moment, Reynolds refused to go home, lending quiet support to the worried members of SG-1; they all appreciated it.

"You believe Major Carter is in Alaska?" Teal'c asked, regarding the other man thoughtfully.

"Don't get me wrong, I agree with you that it seems too easy," Reynolds explained. "But what if they're double bluffing us, setting up what feels like a diversion and hoping we don't pursue it, and all the while, they've _actually_ got her up in Alaska?"

"Are you volunteering to take a team and check it out?" Jack asked, dropping into an empty kitchen chair and scrubbing a hand through his already unruly hair.

"Yes," the other man shrugged, as if he was offering to do no more than make a coffee run for everyone.

"Co-ordinate it with Hammond," Jack agreed, giving his friend a grateful smile.

Returning the gesture, Reynolds got to his feet and headed for the front door, shrugging on his jacket as he went. A few seconds later, the door slammed shut but not before a blast of cold air swept through the kitchen, making more than one of them shiver.

"We're spinning our wheels," Daniel sighed, moving over to where the coffeemaker was gurgling away on the counter. Pouring himself his zillionth cup of the day, he noted, "We need real information."

The room lapsed into silence. Everyone agreed with him, but for the moment, there was nothing they could do but wait and hope.


	13. Chapter 13

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

The first thing Sam became aware of was the cool air that danced across her skin and made her shiver. The second thing she noticed was that her head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton; she'd felt that way often enough to know that it was a side effect of some sort of drug. Lying still, she forced her sluggish brain to recall the last things that had happened before she'd lost consciousness. Slowly, the memory came flooding back and her eyes flew open, taking in her surroundings.

She was lying on a sleeping bag, laid out on the floor of a small, windowless room. A single bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a dim halo of light that barely lit the room enough to make out the four concrete walls pressing in on her. The air in the room was musty and damp; the stale air was a sure sign that this room wasn't used much, which didn't do much to reassure Sam. The moisture in the air had already seeped into the well-worn flannel of her pyjamas, leaving her skin clammy, and she could feel her lungs protesting with every breath she took, the dampness forcing her to work that much harder for each lungful of air.

Sitting up carefully, Sam had to lay her hand on the wall when her vision grayed out. She stilled and blinked furiously, struggling to clear her vision and determined not to lose consciousness again so soon after waking up. She gave herself a few minutes before attempting to get to her feet. It took a monumental effort, but she eventually managed it, leaning heavily on the wall for support. On shaky legs, she slowly maneuvered herself towards the door, pausing twice when harsh coughing fits threatened to drive her to her knees. When at last she made it to the door, she found that there was no way to open it from the inside.

Dejectedly, Sam made her way back to the sleeping bag. She hadn't really expected the door to be unlocked, but not even being able to open it from the inside made any chance of escape that much slimmer. Considering the way she was feeling after a slow trip across a small room, she didn't think escape was even a real possibility in the first place, but still, it would have been nice to know that the option was there.

Dropping gracelessly to her knees, Sam wrapped the sleeping bag around her shivering body and settled down to wait for the inevitable visit from whoever had abducted her. Leaning her back against the damp wall, she cursed the fact that there was no way for her to tell how long she'd been unconscious. At the moment, all she could do was hope that someone from the SGC had already stopped by her house and found her missing. She knew without a doubt that they would start looking for her immediately and wouldn't stop until they found her; her teammates wouldn't let them.

Another fit of wracking coughs hit her and she pulled her knees tight against her chest, trying to ease the pain that stabbed into her sides with every spasm. Resting her head on her knees, she tried to suck in steady, shallow breaths with only minor success. Sam wasn't worried about keeping quiet at the moment; if the racket she was making attracted the attention of her captors, so much the better. Maybe then she could find out why she had been kidnapped and who was behind it. In this sort of situation, knowledge was power and she hated that she was completely in the dark right now.

To Sam's relief, it wasn't long before the grating sound of metal on metal rang out, echoing through the small room and temporarily drowning out the sounds of her coughing. She watched the door through watering eyes, unsurprised by who pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the barren room.

"How are you feeling, Major?" the man who'd sedated her inquired. He'd shed his SF uniform in favor of the all-black gear SG teams typically wore on covert missions and was watching her with sharp hazel eyes. "I do hope you're doing better after your little nap," he added, feigning concern.

Sam had to wait another few moments for her coughing to abate, and then a few more for her aching lungs to draw enough breath to speak. When she finally managed it, she struggled to make her voice as strong as possible.

"Who the hell are you and what do you want?" she demanded, her anger clear in her tone.

"Information, Major," he replied, a relaxed smile on his face. "And we've certainly waited long enough for the chance to speak with you."

She made note of his use of the word 'we' before she replied, filing that piece of information away for later analysis.

"I won't tell you anything," Sam croaked, her jaw set with determination. "Sorry to have wasted your time," she added dryly, taking a page out of the _Jack O'Neill Handbook on Provoking Bad Guys into Revealing Information_.

"We can do this one of two ways," the stranger informed her patiently. "Option one: you chat with me and when my superiors have the information they want, I'll let you go. Option two: you refuse to cooperate and I'm forced to keep you here indefinitely… I'm sure that can't be good for your health, leaving pneumonia untreated for days, maybe weeks, however long it takes for you to change your mind. And you _will_ change your mind," he assured.

"Doubtful," Sam retorted, grimacing when her carefully schooled defiance was shattered by another coughing fit.

"I don't know about that, Major," he smiled grimly. "I can be _very_ persuasive."

Sam watched through streaming eyes as he stretched an arm out the door, reaching for something. When he pulled his arm back inside, he held a syringe in his hand, the protective cap already removed from its tip.

_Crap_, Sam thought, chest heaving as she tried to drag air into her starving lungs. All the stubborn pride in the world wouldn't help her if this guy started injecting her with drug cocktails every few hours.

**A/N: **Okay folks, that's me done for the today, but watch for another update tomorrow. Thanks for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"All right, gentlemen," Hammond announced, entering the briefing room at 0900 the next morning. He waved his subordinates back into their seats before taking his usual seat at the head of the table. Opening the folder waiting at his place, he noted how disappointingly thin the file was and asked, "What do we know?"

Looking up expectantly, his eyes wandered over the other people gathered around the table. Jack and Daniel both looked utterly exhausted, dark shadows under their eyes and deep creases lining their faces. Neither man had slept last night, that much Hammond knew without being told. Turning his gaze on the other SG-1 member present, he noted that although Teal'c looked better rested than his teammates, he too had had a rough night and was obviously just as worried as the other two were.

A quick glance to his left was all it took for Hammond to note that Frank Simmons was the most alert, relaxed person in the room. He was calmly sipping from his styrofoam Starbucks cup as if he didn't have a care in the world, looking rather bored.

"Not much new to report, sir," Jack sighed, tilting back in his chair as he spoke. "Frasier got the test results back off the syringe the forensics team found. It tested positive for Carter's blood and thyroid-pitch-a-tent…"

"Thiopental," Daniel corrected patiently, the barest hint of a smile ghosting over his features.

"Yeah, that," Jack agreed, flicking his hand vaguely in Daniel's direction.

"Janet said it's a fast-acting sedative," Daniel supplied, picking up where the older man had left off. "The right dosage would have knocked Sam out right away."

"Also, Denver PD found the car early this morning; forensics confirmed Carter had been in it."

"How can they be sure?" Hammond asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"They found a couple strands of blonde hair and a small smear of blood, both on the passenger seat," Daniel pitched in, tired fingers rubbing over bleary eyes as his sluggish brain dredged up the details. "We ran our own DNA tests and they confirm that both are from Sam."

"The hair could be planted, but the blood would be too difficult to get right. It's authentic," Simmons stated confidently, never faltering in the rhythm his bored fingers drummed out on the tabletop.

"You'd know all about planting evidence, wouldn't you, Simmons?" Jack asked rhetorically, shooting an icy glare across the table.

"That's enough, Colonel," Hammond interrupted before the briefing could degenerate into little more than a venue for sniping and barb trading.

"The only flight leaving from the airstrip where the car was found filed a flight plan routing to a remote strip 100 miles outside of Juneau," Jack stated tightly, visibly struggling to reign in his anger. His fingers were slowly turning white as they tightened their grip on the arm of the chair; Hammond was pretty sure that if Jack let go now, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from reaching across the table and throttling Simmons.

"I've already spoken with Colonel Reynolds," Hammond interjected, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "He's taking a six man team to investigate; they should arrive just before noon our time."

"Who has made the journey with Colonel Reynolds?" Teal'c inquired, tilting his head as he regarded the general curiously. Despite the casual way the question had been asked, Hammond knew it was a loaded one.

"Major Griff, Captains Shaye and Marsden, Lieutenant Riley and Sergeant Siler," he replied, looking pointedly at the three men to his right.

The response was met with nods of approval from the male members of SG-1; all six men he'd named had been with the SGC for years and could be trusted completely. Even though no one in the briefing room really expected to find anything useful in Alaska, so long as there was even a remote chance of finding another clue to Sam's whereabouts, they all wanted their own people on it.

"That's about it on our end, sir," Jack wrapped up, clearly frustrated with how little progress they had made in almost 24 hours.

"I see," Hammond replied, feeling his own spirits sink a little lower. "There's nothing new on this end, except…" he gestured at Teal'c, giving the other man the opportunity to fill his teammates in on their latest idea.

"Doctor Frasier suggested that your government's Food and Drug Administration might provide us with useful information on Major Carter's whereabouts," Teal'c informed them all, grateful to be able to contribute _something_ beyond bad news and more bad news. "At the president's request, this branch of your government will begin closely monitoring all prescriptions filed for the antibiotic amoxicillin. We will be immediately informed of any suspicious prescriptions that are filled."

"Amoxicillin is what they'd give Carter for the pneumonia?" Jack clarified, making sure he was following Janet's train of thought. He figured it was a long shot – antibiotics were prescribed often enough, after all – but they were grasping at straws right now, and anything that could point them in the right direction would be very welcome.

"It is," Teal'c replied, inclining his head in his friend's direction.

"Doesn't that violate just about _every_ federal privacy law in existence?" Daniel asked, his eyebrows furrowing in concern.

"Not when those laws have been temporarily suspended by a quietly signed executive order," Simmons replied, a knowing smile giving them all the impression that he had some experience in getting presidential authorization to circumvent federal law.

"Anything else, people?" Hammond asked, ignoring the dark looks passing between his second-in-command and the NID agent.

"No sir, not at the moment," Daniel sighed, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Then I suggest you three," Hammond nodded at his people, "Go get some rest. There's nothing else we can do right now and I want you all in top form when we locate Major Carter."

All three men were prepared to protest until he gave them a look that brokered no room for argument. Each and every one had ignored that look on numerous occasions in the past, debating and sometimes flat out arguing against whatever decision Hammond had just made, but apparently Simmons' presence had put the remaining members of SG-1 on their best behavior. With nothing more than three short nods, they acquiesced, got to their feet and shuffled tiredly out of the room.

"I'm meeting one of my contacts this afternoon," Simmons informed Hammond, waiting until the men of SG-1 were out of earshot. "He's a… Well, let's just say he specializes in making paperwork about certain types of flights disappear. I'll let you know if I learn anything useful," he concluded, backing out of the briefing room.

"You do that," Hammond replied, watching him go. He'd be the first to admit that he didn't trust Frank Simmons even half as far as he could throw him, but if there was any chance the man could help them find Sam, however remote, Hammond wanted him on board.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Hammond made his way into his office for a few hours of paperwork. Bureaucracy didn't shut down just because one of his officers was missing, even though most of his brain did.

**A/N: **I'm Canadian, so I have no idea what the legal ins and outs of executive orders are, and Google and Wikipedia can only take me so far. Forgive me if I totally screwed up in this chapter; everything I know about the functioning of the American government, I learned from watching 'The West Wing'. : )


	15. Chapter 15

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Sam curled up in a little ball under the sleeping bag, trying to stay as warm as possible in the damp room. The shivers that raced through her exhausted body sparked frequent bouts of coughing that left her gasping for breath, which, more often than not, triggered even more coughing. Between the cold and the near constant hacking, her hopes of getting some sleep were largely dashed.

To make matters worse, the hazy sensation of being somewhat disconnected from reality lingered; a side effect of the injection her captor had given her. She wasn't sure what the chemical compounds in the syringe had been, but the colloquial term 'truth serum' was an accurate enough descriptor for the moment. She'd struggled to prevent the tip of the syringe from piercing her skin, but it hadn't mattered much in the end. She hadn't had the strength to put any real force behind her blows, so the kicks she'd landed in his kneecap and his gut hadn't been nearly as disabling as she'd hoped. In the end, a coughing fit had driven her to her knees and he'd seized the opportunity, jabbing the syringe into her thigh so hard Sam was positive he'd left a bruise. Once that was done, he'd stepped off to the side, watching as she'd tried to catch her breath and ready herself for whatever was about to come.

He'd waited only minutes before he'd started grilling her, demanding information about Orlin and the mini-stargate he'd built in her basement a few months ago. He hadn't realized it, but his questions had told Sam an awful lot about who he worked for. When she'd returned to work after the destruction of the Ancient weapon on Velona and every other branch of the government had been pressing her for everything she knew about the weapon, only the NID had been fixated on the mini-gate. When General Hammond had ordered the mini-gate to the SGC, keeping it from falling into NID hands, they had demanded copies of her credit card bills – presumably to get an idea of which materials Orlin had used and in what quantities – as well as all the reports relating to the object and the opportunity to pick her brain for information. The first two requests, Hammond had been forced to grant, but Sam knew he had steadfastly refused the third, frustrating the NID to no end. Now, her interrogator's narrow focus on the mini-gate confirmed what she'd suspected since he'd sedated her back at her house: the NID had finally made good on their long-standing threat to kidnap her.

Throughout the interrogation, Sam had done her best to think about anything but the questions being posed to her. The result had been amusing for her at least; she'd spoken a lot but had mainly voiced a long series of disjointed thoughts as they popped into her head. Occasionally, something physics-related would slip out and her captor's eyes would light up, believing he'd finally discovered the information he was after, but a few moments later she would have already moved on to the next thought and his face would fall, realizing that his big breakthrough had been little more than an incoherent grad level physics lecture.

The session had ended when the drug's effects had started wearing off. Sam had grown steadily less talkative and when she'd reached the point where she was clearheaded enough that she could formulate snarky answers to his questions more often than not, he'd given up. The last she'd seen of him had been when he'd promised to be back in a few hours for another round of questions and answers – although Sam was determined to keep the game restricted to questions only - before pulling the door shut with a loud clang.

Curling up even tighter, Sam closed her fever bright eyes and tried to force her body to relax. She had no doubt that her kidnapper would be back for round two and she was determined to rest as much as possible in between sessions.


	16. Chapter 16

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"The sodium pentothal didn't work," he stated bluntly as soon as the phone was picked up on the other end.

"We knew it might take a few tries," his employer snapped in irritation. "Give her another dose and try again."

"I'm not sure it's going to work, no matter how many times we try," he argued, wary eyes scanning his surroundings from behind dark sunglasses. He had no reason to believe he had been followed, but in his line of work, it didn't hurt to be cautious. "She's been trained to resist this type of interrogation."

"If you're too incompetent to handle a simple interrogation, I'll send someone else to take over for you."

His blood ran cold at that, not so much because he was afraid of being replaced, but rather because of the implied threat in the other man's words. If he walked away now, there was nothing stopping him from running to the authorities and outlining the details of the entire operation. He knew without a doubt that his employers would rather kill him than give him the chance to breach organizational security like that.

"I can handle it," he assured confidently, his sense of self-preservation kicking in.

"Good."

"Do they have any idea where we're keeping her?" he pressed, wanting as much information as he could possibly get. If he was minutes away from members of the SGC swarming the place and breaking down doors in search of their missing officer, he wanted to know.

"None," the other man scoffed. "They sent a team chasing up to _Alaska_ even though they thought it was a diversion. They're desperate."

"That's good to hear," he replied, glancing at his watch and taking note of how long the call had already lasted. He had strict instructions to keep all calls under thirty seconds in length, complicating any efforts that might be made to trace his calls, and they were quickly coming up on his time limit.

"I have an important meeting to get to," his employer replied briskly, the trace of amusement he'd displayed when discussing the SGC's fruitless efforts had vanished and he was all business once more. "Check in is at this time tomorrow."

"Copy that," he agreed, snapping the phone shut and ending the call with two seconds to go.

He wiped the phone down quickly before chucking it into the river before him. It was a pain in the ass to keep changing cell phones every day, but it was a necessary security measure. Turning away from the plop that heralded the watery death of his second phone in as many days, he made his way back to his car.

He had a lot to do today and time was a-wasting.


	17. Chapter 17

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Janet looked up from her blank computer screen when a shadow fell across her desk, jumping slightly when she realized she had been caught staring into space. Her eyes fell on the rumpled form of Daniel Jackson and she relaxed momentarily before she took note of his pinched features and the defeated slouch of his shoulders. For the second time in seconds, Janet's heart leapt into her throat, first from surprise and now from the dread clawing at her insides.

"Any word yet?" she asked anxiously, not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer. Good news was welcome, but the dull blue eyes staring back at her suggested there wasn't much of that to be had right now.

"Reynolds called," Daniel replied. "Alaska was a bust, just like we figured it would be."

"We had to try," Janet offered consolingly even as her own spirits sunk a little lower. Giving up the pretense of working, she pushed her keyboard tray in and rested an elbow on her desk, propping her head up with her hand.

"The car was the only lead we've had in over twelve hours," Daniel sighed, dropping into a vacant chair like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. "Simmons' contact didn't come through, and the local authorities can't find anyone who's seen the guy Mrs. Smithson described to their sketch artist… She's slipping away, Janet," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"We _are_ going to find her, Daniel," Janet assured gently, leaning forward and trying to catch his eye. "You have to believe that."

"Yeah, but how late is too late?" he replied, rubbing his gritty eyes. "How much time do we have if we're going to find _Sam_ and not just her body?"

And there it was, Janet realized, the real fear weighing on the men of SG-1 right now. They believed that they would find their missing fourth, they just weren't sure they'd find her alive.

"They won't let it go that far; she's more valuable alive," Janet said, even as a part of her screamed that the changes Jolinar had wrought on Sam physiologically could never be fully understood without an autopsy. Using the NID's twisted form of logic, Sam's value changed day to day; when there was an immediate crisis to be solved, they valued her mind but the rest of the time, they simply valued her brain. The distinction may seem semantic to most people, but Janet realized that to the NID, it was significant.

"We both know that's not true for the NID," Daniel called her on the lie. He sighed again, clearly debating _something_, before he apparently made up his mind and turned pleading eyes on her. "Please, Janet, the truth; if they let the pneumonia go, what are we looking at?"

Taking a deep breath, Janet considered her words carefully. She didn't want to give the rest of SG-1 anything else to worry about, but she realized that, right now, the uncertainty was probably more difficult for them to deal with than the truth.

"If Sam's pneumonia is left untreated, it may – and I stress _may_ – result in complications. One possibility is acute respiratory distress syndrome," she explained calmly, watching Daniel hang off her every word. "Patients with ARDS experience inflammation in their lungs and this, combined with the infection, stiffens the lungs and they start to fill with fluid…"

"They drown," Daniel summarized, eyes wide as he realized the implications of what she was telling him.

"Essentially," Janet grimaced, knowing that they both had the same terrible image stuck in their heads.

"What else?"

"Another possibility is septic shock, which, as you know, can damage major organs and needs to be treated ASAP."

Daniel hung his head and squeezed his tired eyes shut, trying to will away the cold fear that had settled in the pit of his stomach. Standing, Janet came to stand beside him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I know it sounds scary, and it is," Janet murmured, squeezing comfortingly. "But Sam is young and fit, there are no underlying medical conditions, not even allergies, to consider. Even if whoever has her doesn't treat the pneumonia, Sam's mortality risk is less than one percent. In all likelihood, she'll recover on her own, just like she would have done at home if none of this had ever happened."

"Yeah," Daniel sighed, climbing to his feet, although it was obvious a big part of him refused to believe it would really be that simple. As he rose, Janet's hand fell away from his shoulder and for lack of anything better to do with them, she shoved her hands deep in her pockets. "I should go check in with the general before he goes home for the night," Daniel excused himself, even though they both knew it was unlikely the older man would stray far from his office until Sam had been found.

"Call me if…"

"I will, I promise," Daniel assured with a tight smile. "Thanks," he added, squeezing her shoulder once as he brushed past her on his way out of her office.

She watched him leave before sinking into the recently vacated chair. Resting her head in her hand again, she blinked back tears of worry and frustration. No one blamed Sam's kidnapping on her, Janet knew that, but that knowledge wasn't enough to silence the voice in her head that berated her for ever thinking it was safe to leave Sam by herself when she was anything less than fighting fit. Janet was the one to field the monthly requests from the NID to access Sam's medical files; she knew how determined they were to get their hands on her friend's medical information. Given the organization's demonstrated lack of morality thus far, she should have known better than to discount the possibility that they would simply gather the information themselves if ever they decided it really meant that much to them.

With a deep breath, Janet resolved to believe that the NID wanted Sam for her intellect and not her body. It was the only way to maintain her composure at this point.


	18. Chapter 18

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

He'd woven his way back into town, running from one side of the city to the other before finally returning to the facility long after just about everything in town had closed for the night. Now, against the strict instructions his employer had given him, he was unlocking the door to Sam's makeshift cell not for a third interrogation session, but to offer his prisoner water.

The original plan had been to withhold food and water for the first forty-eight hours of her captivity, leaving her more vulnerable to the sodium pentothol's effects. But circumstances had changed; the woman he was supposed to be interrogating was running a high fever that, as far as he could tell, hadn't broken since the kidnapping. Moreover, she had become increasingly unable to answer his questions, consumed as she was by great, wracking coughs. As a result, he was willing to take the risk of deviating slightly from the plan. Besides, what his employers didn't know couldn't hurt him.

With effort, he swung the heavy metal door open and found his prisoner lying exactly where he'd left her. Crossing to her, he twisted the cap off the water bottle in his hand, making sure her glassy eyes could see him breaking the plastic seal as he did so. That done, he set the bottle on the ground beside her and stepped back, giving her as much space as he could in the tiny room. She eyed him suspiciously and made no move to drink, instead engaging him in a silent battle of wills.

"You need to re-hydrate," he urged when it became clear she had no intention of touching his offering, nor of being the first to speak.

"Thanks for the concern…" she croaked, the words catching in her parched throat. "Too bad you weren't this worried about my well-being when you _kidnapped_ me!"

"We need you alive," he tried, changing tactics. "There's nothing in there that will hurt you."

"That's very reassuring, coming from the man who's already drugged me three times so far," Sam retorted. She was aiming to sound biting, but the coughing fit that swallowed her words left her sounding pathetic more than anything else. The perceived weakness irritated her and she channeled her annoyance into a dark glare.

"And none of those times hurt you. Drink."

"Why are you doing this?" she wheezed breathlessly, everything in her chest aching with the effort of suppressing another harsh coughing fit that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Because you have important information and your superiors have been stonewalling mine for quite some time."

"No, why are _you_ doing this? Not the NID, you personally," she clarified, sitting up with more effort than she'd ever willingly admit to. "You're a dead man walking; they'll kill you whether you go along with their plan or not."

He had nothing to say to that, so he chose to remain silent, schooling his features and hoping he gave nothing away when she successfully guessed who he was working for.

Sam watched his face harden and she knew she'd struck a nerve. Now that she was under his skin, she pressed on, hoping to at least give him something to think about the next time he contacted his boss.

"Think about it," Sam insisted. "I've gotten a good look at your face. I may not know your name right now, but a few hours flipping through federal personnel files will change that and you'll be no use to them then. Your superiors only planned on one of us leaving here alive and guess what? It's not going to be you." Sam adopted her best poker face and regarded him coolly. She was bluffing and just had to hope that he wouldn't call her on it.

With her heart racing, she sat frozen in place. Her tired eyes watched as a muscle in his jaw began to twitch, the only sign that he had even heard her. Redirecting her gaze, blue eyes met hazel and they stared one another down. For the first time since she'd been kidnapped, Sam felt like she had some control over the situation and she was determined to keep it for as long as she could.

"Drink!" he barked angrily a few moments later, turning on his heel and leaving the room. He pulled the door firmly shut behind him and the sounds of locks sliding into place clanged ominously.

Slumping back down to the ground, Sam readjusted the sleeping bag around her shivering body. Snaking one arm out of her warm cocoon, she grabbed the water bottle and, with shaking hands, removed the cap. She raised it to her chapped lips and drank a few measured sips, resisting her body's demands to gulp down the whole bottle. After a few swallows, she put replaced the cap on the bottle, pulled her arms back inside and tucked the sleeping bag snugly around her, trying to keep the cool, damp air off her feverish skin.

Snuggling under the familiar weight of a military issue sleeping bag, Sam tried to pretend that this was just one more night spent camping off-world. Without the comforting sounds of her teammates' deep, even breathing, it was hard to hang on to the illusion, but she forced herself to focus on the fact that her teammates were out looking for her, rather than dwelling on the fact that she was alone.

Eventually, she managed to drop off into an exhausted sleep, her body finally getting some much needed rest.


	19. Chapter 19

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Jack prowled the corridors of the SGC restlessly, unable to sit still, let alone try and sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind began turning over the last time he'd seen Sam, trying to find something that should have warned him the NID was getting ready to make a move. He hadn't come up with anything – yet – but that didn't stop his mind from torturing him at every possible opportunity. His restlessness was compounded by the nagging voice in his head that insisted he not allow himself the luxury of sleeping in a nice warm bed when Sam was going through goodness only knew what, and so he found himself dragging his weary body through the familiar hallways, searching for some sort of distraction from his own thoughts.

Reaching a juncture in the corridor, Jack chose the one that would lead him to the gym. Exhausted though he was, decades of experience ha taught him that sometimes the only thing that could settle him down was beating the crap out of something. As he got closer, his ears picked up on the rhythmic thumping of bare flesh on a punching bag, and he sped up; he'd bet his cabin that he knew who was in there. Rounding the corner, he spotted Teal'c, wailing on the punching bag and unleashing the same fury that run-ins with Apophis usually unleashed. Approaching his friend, Jack moved to the opposite side of the bag, holding it as best he could against the Jaffa's onslaught.

"Reynolds' team is back," Jack said quietly, ending with a grunt when Teal'c landed a particularly hard punch.

"I am aware," Teal'c growled, not slowing his attack.

Jack leaned more of his weight into the bag just in time; Teal'c began putting even more force behind his swings. For a few minutes, Jack watched and waited for any sign that the other man was getting ready to stop, but he really should have known better. If anything, Teal'c was just getting warmed up.

"It wasn't your fault," Jack finally assured, breaking the silence. He knew he'd hit the nail on the head when Teal'c's pattern faltered momentarily.

"Nor was it yours," Teal'c replied shortly, swinging so hard he almost knocked Jack off balance. Again. "Yet you still hold yourself responsible."

Teal'c's tone of voice made it clear that the matter was closed, so Jack gave up his admittedly poor attempt at a pep talk. The gym was empty at this time of night; the only sounds to be heard were the steady pounding of Teal'c's fists and the faint whir of the base's ventilation system. Although Jack suspected that the waves of rage radiating off Teal'c may have had a hand in scaring away anyone who hadbeen planning on working out, he was grateful to have the gym to themselves; the well-intended expressions of concern that various base personnel had been expressing non-stop since Sam had first disappeared were starting to grate on Jack's nerves.

"I was negligent in my duty to protect Major Carter," Teal'c said suddenly, shattering the quiet. His voice was heavy with the weight of his shame and his eyes were studiously averted, guarding against any efforts Jack may have made to catch his eye.

"We all were," Jack grunted, bracing his weight against the bag as Teal'c took a particularly hard swing , even for him. "But when we find her, let's not tell her that, okay?" Jack added lightly. He could just picture the look on Sam's face if she ever heard them talking about their 'duty' to protect her and, believe it or not, his ears were _actually_ ringing as his imagination gave him a taste of the yelling that would most likely follow.

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed, his eyes twinkling with amusement and Jack knew they were imagining the same scene. "Have you seen Daniel Jackson this evening?" he inquired, finally halting his attack on the punching bag.

"Is he all right?" Jack asked with a grimace, guilt leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He'd hardly seen Daniel or Teal'c all afternoon; he'd been so busy calling in every favor he was owed, trying to uncover a new lead to pursue and wallowing in his own worry.

"He feels that much of the blame for Major Carter's disappearance lies upon his own shoulders," Teal'c confessed. "He is also concerned that her health is in increasing jeopardy the longer it takes us to determine her whereabouts."

"Is he still on base?"

"In Major Carter's quarters."

Jack heaved a sigh and ran a hand over his gritty, tired eyes. He should have known; Daniel had a knack for assuming responsibility for anything and everything that went wrong in his general vicinity and then beating himself up for it.

"He has been alone for several hours now," Teal'c added quietly, clearly trying to nudge Jack in the direction of doing something about it.

"Let's go round him up," Jack decided, rolling his shoulders to loosen the muscles protesting at the strain they'd been under while Teal'c nearly beat the stuffing out of the punching bag literally. "We'll all grab dinner together before getting a few hours of sleep. Hammond's right; we all need to be in top form when we find Carter."

"We _will_ find her, O'Neill," Teal'c assured, the quiet confidence behind his words buoying Jack's own sinking hopes. "We shall not cease searching until we do."

"No, we won't," Jack agreed, his lips quirking upwards in a tight smile.

Clapping Teal'c on the shoulder, Jack brushed past him and made his way out of the gym. It was time to stop moping around and time to start tackling this problem as a team. Their best hope of finding their missing team member was to work together.


	20. Chapter 20

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"Gentlemen," Hammond greeted, entering the briefing room at 0930 on the dot the next morning. Reminiscent of yesterday's meeting, he waved his subordinates back into their seats while settling himself in his customary spot at the head of the table. Offering Simmons a perfunctory nod by way of greeting, he got the ball rolling. "What do we know?"

"Not much," Jack replied, doodling idly on the notepad in front of him. "We've already run down everything we have and nothing new has turned up in almost thirty-six hours."

"My contacts have been monitoring communications through several channels of interest, so far to no avail," Simmons contributed, an air of boredom surrounding him.

"Yeah, I'm sure you've really been leaning on them for intel," Jack muttered, his words carrying easily in the otherwise silent room.

"Colonel…" Hammond said warningly. His 2IC had been radiating pent up frustration for the better part of two days and, knowing him as he did, Hammond could tell that it was going to start boiling over sooner rather than later.

"I have pledged _all_ of the resources at my disposal to assist in locating Major Carter!" Simmons interrupted angrily. "And I resent the implication that I'm not making good on my word."

"None of us are saying that you're not trying," Daniel placated, sharing a look with Hammond, as if apologizing for stepping in. Hammond certainly didn't mind; he was happy to let someone else play the role of peacemaker between the two.

"No," Jack agreed, slamming his pen down as he leaned across the table to glower at the man sitting across from him. "But we _are_ starting to question just how _actively_ you're trying."

"It _kills_ you that you need my help," Simmons smirked, sensing that a blow up was coming and trying to rile Jack up as much as possible before it did. "But you know you'll never find her on your own."

"Enough!" Hammond barked, looking back and forth between the two men sternly. "We're all here because we want Major Carter found…"

"Although some of us have more altruistic reasons for wanting her found than others," Jack interrupted, his steely glare locked on Simmons.

"Take a walk, Colonel," Hammond ordered sharply, hard blue eyes narrowed at his oft insubordinate subordinate.

"You don't _seriously_ believe he's here because he cares about what happens to her!" Jack argued. His frustration level had finally reached critical mass and he slammed his hands down on the table in front of him. "Hell, if his people find her first, he's probably ordered them to hide her away so they can interrogate her! And _that's_ assuming he didn't have her kidnapped in the first place!"

"Come, O'Neill," Teal'c interrupted abruptly, getting to his feet and moving to stand at his friend's shoulder before Hammond could reprimand him further.

With one last glare at Simmons, Jack roughly shoved his chair back from the table and got to his feet, storming out of the room with Teal'c trailing in his wake. In their absence, an awkward silence settled over the briefing room, broken only by the faint rustle of clothing as Daniel shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Well, General," Simmons said haughtily after a few moments of silence. "I hope Colonel O'Neill's performance is not indicative of the disciplinary standards Stargate Command's officers are expected to adhere to. Although it would certainly explain a lot if it were."

"Jack is worried and frustrated. We all are," Daniel stated evenly, trying to reign in his own growing anger with Simmons. "Can we focus on finding Sam now?"

"Do you have anything else to report, son?" Hammond asked, not giving Simmons a chance to respond. The men of SG-1 were all strung so tightly right now that if Simmons pressed much more, even the team's normally pacifistic archaeologist would blow up at him.

"The local police are still co-operating. They haven't said anything yet, but they're losing hope pretty quickly," Daniel sighed, studying the tabletop carefully. "Unless we turn up something new in the next day or two, they're going to start scaling back the resources they're devoting to the search. At this point, they think our best bet is to get Sam's picture out to local media outlets and hope someone saw something."

"I thought we decided against that because it would draw attention to Major Carter's involvement in the program," Simmons reminded, leaning back in his chair.

"We did, but we're quickly running out of other options," Hammond reminded. "We'll have to run it past the president," he stated, hating that their best chance of coming up with new information on Sam's whereabouts could be shut down in the interest of national security, even if he did understand why it was necessary.

"Sir, if the president gives us the okay, we need to tell Mark," Daniel pointed out.

They'd put off telling Sam's brother that she was missing, hoping that they would find her quickly and not have to field a bunch of his very valid questions with the always frustrating non-answer, 'that's classified.' The issue had formed the basis of more than one heated debate in the last two days, but in the end, Daniel had grudgingly accepted Jack's position on the matter and agreed to wait until they had some real information or, even better, had located Sam before contacting him. Fortunately, Mark was so used to his sister being away for days on end, often with little or no advanced notice, that he had yet to realize anything was amiss. But now, if they were going to plaster Sam's photo all over television, Mark needed to be told.

"_If_ the president gives the okay, I'll make the call," Hammond agreed. He fully expected Mark to be angry about not being informed of his sister's kidnapping sooner, and rightfully so. Hammond wouldn't dare ask any of the already edgy members of SG-1 to incur the man's wrath. "Doctor Jackson, I assume you're prepared to coordinate with the local police on this?"

"Yes sir," Daniel agreed, getting to his feet. He didn't point out that he'd been prepared for days, assorted pictures of Sam and a yet-to-be-approved press release outlining the un-classified details surrounding her abduction ready and waiting on the corner of his desk.

Disheartened at their lack of progress, Daniel dipped his head in Hammond's direction before making his way out of the briefing room. While waiting for the president's decision, he figured he'd track down Jack and Teal'c and update them on the, admittedly, little that they'd missed.

"I've set up meetings for today with the last of my contacts," Simmons informed Hammond, also standing, "I'll contact you if anything turns up."

"Thank you," Hammond nodded, although Simmons was already halfway out the door and didn't notice the gesture.

**A/N: **I'm off to soccer practice now, but I'll try to get another chapter or two posted when I get home. Thanks for reading!


	21. Chapter 21

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

He took a deep breath and tossed the phone back and forth between his hands, weighing his options one last time. Making up his mind, he flipped the phone open and followed the same pattern he always did when dialing this particular number. When his employer finally picked up, he sounded irritated.

"You're early," he snapped. "I'm just coming out of a meeting."

"She's not doing very well," he said, by way of explanation. "She's having trouble breathing and her fever is through the roof."

"Well then, it should be an easy day for you, shouldn't it?"

"I'm serious. Her lips started to turn blue overnight," he bluffed, pressing the lie with as much conviction as he could muster.

"Do whatever it takes to get the information we need," his employer demanded. He hesitated for a few moments, obviously debating the best course of action, before adding, "Someone will be by later today to check on the problem."

With that, the other man hung up, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the incessant beeping that warned him the call had been disconnected.

He wiped the phone clean of fingerprints and tossed it into the roiling water stretched out before him. Standing still, he watched the river rush past, turning the conversation over in his head. His employer hadn't said anything about it, but the fact that he was willing to risk breaching security by sending someone over to examine Sam was telling. It was a big chance to take for a woman whose life would be forfeit within a matter of days. As he considered it, Sam's words from last night came back to him.

He was nothing more than a grunt – skilled, yes – but the NID employed plenty of people just like him; he was replaceable. She, on the other hand, was one-of-a-kind; that was the whole point of kidnapping her in the first place. The physiological changes wrought by the symbiote that had possessed her were of interest to his employers, but they were willing to wait for the chance to study her brain. Their more immediate interests rested with the information she possessed; at the moment, his employers were preoccupied with her knowledge of alien technology, coupled with the intellectual leaps she was famous for. She was infinitely more valuable alive than dead.

Sam had been right last night when she'd pointed out that she could easily give a description of him to the appropriate authorities. Initially, he'd assumed that the plan his employers had concocted culminated in killing her, so he hadn't been too concerned about letting her see his face. Now he wasn't so sure that he was the one they intended to allow to walk away from the situation, and that was unacceptable.

His mind made up, he turned on his heel and made a beeline for his car. He had a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in.


	22. Chapter 22

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Glancing over his shoulder, he noted that both children were following his instructions and staying in the backyard. Pleased to see that they really _could_ listen, at least sometimes, he jogged across the last few feet of yard before entering the house and bounding into the kitchen. Slightly out of breath – he was _way_ too old to be expected to keep up with two rambunctious kids all day long – he snatched up the phone, answering it on the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Mark," a voice vaguely recalled from his childhood and, in recent years, the odd phone call, greeted wearily. "It's George Hammond."

Mark felt his gut clench painfully as dread started thudding through his veins in time with his now racing heart. "Sam or Dad?" he asked bluntly, getting straight to the point. They both knew Hammond never called just to chitchat.

"It's Sam," Hammond sighed, and Mark could hear the strain in the older man's voice. "I'm afraid she's been abducted, son."

"While sitting under a mountain doing deep space radar telemetry? Or while on a mission chasing one of her satellites?" Mark asked skeptically, making it clear that he didn't buy the cover story both his sister and his father periodically tried to sell him.

For a scientist whose work was largely theoretical and could therefore, one would assume, be done from the relative safety of a lab, Sam managed to wind up in a startling number of scrapes that necessitated Hammond making these types of phone calls. It wasn't that Mark wasn't concerned, but the whole song and dance had become rather routine in the last few years: Hammond would call and deliver bad news, Mark would worry himself half to death, and then Hammond would call a few days later to say that Sam was still alive and usually still in one piece. It was a disconcerting cycle, but Mark was slowly getting used to it. Mostly.

"Neither," Hammond replied, ignoring the tone of the other man's voice. "I'm afraid she was kidnapped from home."

"Ex-_cuse_ me?" Mark demanded, his affected nonchalance was quickly replaced by white hot outrage. "As in her _own_ home?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"How the hell did someone manage _that_? You people had her at the Academy for _four years_; weren't you supposed to cover basic things like, oh I dunno, self-defense?"

"You know she is _more_ than capable of defending herself," Hammond reminded patiently. He refused to allow himself the luxury of reacting to Mark's obvious baiting; the younger man had quickly learned which buttons to press, but Hammond still made every effort to come across as unflappable when he had to make these types of calls. "Sam was home ill at the time."

"With what?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Home ill with what?" Mark pressed. "In her junior year, Sam swam in the all-state finals with a bad case of bronchitis, and she defended her doctoral thesis with appendicitis, finishing, just barely, before she had to be rushed to the hospital to have her appendix removed. Whatever she had, it had to have been pretty serious to keep my stubborn, work-a-holic sister at home."

"She'd just been diagnosed with pneumonia that morning," Hammond replied, wincing when he realized his mistake. He'd been intending to bring up that particular detail a little more delicately, but…

"_That_ morning?" he pounced on the older man's verbal misstep. "When exactly did this happen?" Mark demanded.

"Two days ago."

"My sister has been missing for _three days _and you're only telling me _now_?"

"Mark…"

"Has anyone notified the police yet? Or even started _looking_ for her?"

"Of course we have…"

"Well thank goodness for small miracles! What the hell is _wrong_ with you people?" Mark roared, completely losing his temper.

"Mark!" Hammond barked, unleashing his command voice on the irate man. Taking advantage of the surprised silence that followed, he pressed on, imparting some of the information he been hoping to cover before the shouting started. "We learned she was missing within two hours of the kidnapping and as soon as we did, we had our people crawling all over her house looking for clues that could help us find her. The _President of the United States_ has authorized me to do whatever we need to find her, and my people have been working with the local police to chase down every lead we've come across. We are doing _everything_ we can to find her."

"Forgive me for being a little angry," Mark retorted bitterly, thumping his fist on the kitchen counter over and over again, "But you just told me that Sam has been missing for three days and that, over the course of those three days, her co-workers have been working around the clock looking for her, while I've been sitting on my ass with no idea that she was even in trouble! That's three days I've wasted when I could have been doing something to _help_."

"There's nothing you _can _do, son," Hammond argued.

"Look," Mark snarled angrily. "She's my _sister_; you're crazy if you think I'm just going to sit back and leave finding her up to a bunch of strangers!"

"We believe Sam's kidnapping was related to her work," Hammond pushed on, knowing he'd be waiting a long time if he tried to stay quiet until the younger man had calmed down some.

"Deep space radar telemetry sure is a dangerous business," Mark wisecracked, thinking back to the assortment of injuries Sam had accumulated in the last few years. Her body had been a kaleidoscope of bruises on more than one occasion, she'd broken more bones than he could count, she'd gathered a startlingly large collection of scars, which he was sure he'd only seen a tiny fraction of, and now, apparently, Sam could add kidnapping to her list of life experiences. Dangerous indeed.

"Unfortunately, national security concerns preclude me from giving you any details of the kidnapping; we were holding off telling you in the hopes that we would uncover some information we could share with you," Hammond explained, continuing as if Mark had never spoken.

"So Sam's missing but everything is classified, and her co-workers are all busy looking for her, but there's nothing I can do to help find her, since I'm not in the know," Mark summarized, fuming.

"For the moment, all you can do is hope for the best," Hammond advised.

"You can't tell me _anything_?"

"I'm sorry," the older man sighed and Mark could tell that he was sincere.

"Not even… I mean, can you at least tell me if Sam's teammates are involved in the search?" he asked uncertainly, not knowing where the classification of information started and ended.

"I'd be surprised if they've gotten more than ten hours of sleep between them in the last three days," Hammond replied and though the words were light, his tone made it clear that he was serious.

"Okay," Mark said, relaxing marginally.

From the times he'd heard his dad and Sam talk about her teammates, he had the impression that the three men in question would quite happily walk to the ends of the earth for his sister. To top it off, Mark knew his father trusted them wholeheartedly with Sam's well being. Having witnessed first-hand the hoops Jacob Carter made any boy interested in dating his only daughter jump through, Mark knew full well how difficult it must have been for Sam's teammates to earn his father's trust; she may be all grown up now, but Sam would always be their father's baby girl. If he couldn't be involved in the search himself, Mark knew that the three men his father held in such high regard were the next best choice.

"We really are doing everything we can, Mark," Hammond assured gently.

"Just promise me one thing," Mark requested, his irritation evident in each syllable . "Once you find her, tell me it won't be three days before somebody thinks to let me know."

"Son…"

"Thank you for _finally _getting around to calling."

His patience worn clean through, Mark slammed the phone back down into the cradle and rubbed his temples as a tension headache threatened to rear its head. Heaving a sigh, Mark tried to expel all the anger and worry from his body before heading back outside to his children. Not surprisingly, it didn't work. Too many questions were racing through his head; questions he didn't bother asking, knowing that he would never get the answers he so desperately wanted.

"Daddy!" a little voice called from the doorway, breaking through the fog that had wrapped itself around him. "Are you coming back out to play with us?"

"You bet, munchkin," he replied, false brightness in his voice.

Four big steps brought him close enough to sweep his daughter up in his arms before he made his way back outside, keeping a careful hold on the wriggling, giggling little girl. As soon as he set her down, she was off, chasing after her brother in a continuation of the game of tag that had apparently been interrupted when she went to collect their errant father. At his son's urging, Mark joined in, racing around the yard after his children and joining in their laughter, even though it was clear to anyone bothering to look that his heart just wasn't in it.

**A/N: **Do you have _any _idea how hard it is to write a character that appeared in 15 seconds of one episode and never said a single word, yet still had back-story? (The correct answer is 'very'). I wracked my brain trying to remember every single reference to Mark that was ever made in a decade worth of SG-1 episodes, but I couldn't come up with much. If I made a mistake somewhere along the way, please forgive me.


	23. Chapter 23

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Jack snatched his cell phone up from the seat beside him and answered midway through the first ring, his eyes never leaving the black sedan five cars in front of him.

"O'Neill," he stated by way of greeting, making a sudden lane change and hanging a sharp left at the last possible moment, still shadowing the black sedan. The honks that followed him around the corner didn't bother him; he was a man on a mission.

"Colonel," Hammond replied. His tone was serious but Jack knew his CO well enough to detect the trace of humor in the older man's voice. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about the SUV, clearly marked as being from the base motor pool, that has been, and I quote, 'stalking' Colonel Simmons all morning, would you, son?"

"Just trying to be a Good Samaritan, sir," Jack replied glibly, a smirk dancing across his features as he changed lanes a split second after the sedan did. "I've been trying to flag him down and tell him one of his brake lights is out. That's a moving violation, you know."

"Jack…"

"Well, actually, it's not 'out' so much as 'smashed'…"

"And I suppose you had nothing to do with that?"

"No, sir," Jack replied honestly. A heartbeat later, he couldn't resist adding, "Daniel's been trying to teach him otherwise, but Teal'c still drives like he's piloting a death glider in the middle of a dogfight. The collision was completely accidental, sir."

He could hear Hammond chuckle at that and bit back a grin of his own. It had been his idea to tail Simmons all day, but Daniel had been the one to suggest doing something to identify the car as Simmons', preventing the NID from substituting another car in and freeing Simmons from the surveillance without their knowledge. Jack had to admit it had been a stroke of genius. _Evil_ genius, for sure, but genius nonetheless. It was good to know he was having such a positive influence on his archaeologist.

"Let him go, Jack," Hammond instructed a few moments later. "Like it or not, we need his help on this one."

"General, it's the NID that has her!" he argued. "Why is everybody so willing to let them take their sweet time handing Carter over instead of actually _doing_ something?" he demanded, his voice rising with frustration.

"There's nothing _to_ do. We've got nothing new to go on and no evidence pointing to the NID," Hammond reminded yet again.

"What do you call the threats spray painted inside her house over the summer?" Jack snapped, changing lanes again as the sedan cut over into the other lane.

"'Circumstantial' at best. There is _no_ way to tie those threats to the NID, Colonel. We've tried."

"Sir, I _know_ Simmons is involved…" Jack began, gritting his teeth angrily.

"One second, son, Doctor Jackson's here," Hammond interrupted before presumably covering the mouthpiece and speaking with Daniel.

Jack's heart leapt into his throat and he pulled into the first parking lot he came to, waiting for news. In spite of all the cautions his brain was issuing, hope flooded his veins and he allowed himself to believe that this might finally be the break they'd all been waiting for. Drumming his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel, he waited for Hammond to return.

"Get back here ASAP, Jack," Hammond's familiar Texas drawl finally sounded in his ear. The older man's voice was carefully controlled but it didn't fool Jack for a second. "There'll be a chopper waiting…"

"Sir?" Jack pressed, barely able to hear himself over the blood pounding in his ears.

"Las Vegas Police found a woman matching Major Carter's description outside the city limits," Hammond replied quietly.

Jack's brain quickly made the connection between Nevada and Area 51, one of the NID's favorite playgrounds. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel so much that they turned white but his voice remained steady. "Is she all right?"

"Jack, the woman they found is dead," Hammond informed him quietly.

His blood ran cold and his heart stopped. He could hear Hammond still talking, using words like 'morgue', 'body' and 'identify', but his brain refused to grasp the enormity of what it all meant. When Jack finally unfroze, he snapped the phone shut and raced out of the parking lot, tires squealing.


	24. Chapter 24

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"What?" he snapped, answering on the third ring, as usual. He'd thought he'd picked the right man for the job, but he was starting to have doubts, given this demonstrated inability to follow simple instructions. They had no use for someone who didn't know when to shut up and do as they were told.

"Pearson broke routine today." The words were laced with the familiar glee of an underling ratting out a fellow nobody in the hopes of one day being elevated to the status of 'somebody'.

"I'm aware, thank you," he replied waspishly, glancing in his rearview mirror. He was pleased to see he'd finally lost the tail that had been rather obviously following him all morning.

"Are you also aware that he hasn't returned yet?" the rat gloated. "Even taking security protocols to the extreme, he should have been back hours ago."

He cursed vehemently and hung up on the younger man without another word. He debated pulling over but then decided against it, lest his tail had simply fallen behind and the brief stop gave the other vehicle a chance to catch up to him. Keeping his eyes on the road, he dialed a number from memory, knowing he was about to seriously ruin someone else's day with his news.

"Good afternoon…" a perky sounding woman answered.

He had no time to waste and hastily cut off her no-doubt upbeat, well-rehearsed greeting. "I need to speak with the Senator right away on a matter pertaining to recent polling numbers," he stated firmly.

"Right away, sir," the secretary agreed, recognizing the code phrase that was used exclusively to identify calls related to the senator's work with the NID. In truth, having run uncontested in the last three elections, he didn't even bother with polling data anymore.

"Yes?" a male voice inquired long minutes later.

"Bob, it's Frank," he informed the other man. "We have a problem."


	25. Chapter 25

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Looking at the other men who had traveled from Colorado Springs with him, Teal'c saw the same desperation and fear currently swirling in his gut written plain on their faces. He knew they all shared his refusal to believe that Sam could truly be gone, as well as his inability to let himself believe that the woman lying in the morgue was anyone else. They were unable to give up hope at the same time as being unable to muster much of it; the paradox made Teal'c's chest ache.

The flight from Colorado Springs to Las Vegas had been short, lasting just over an hour, but it felt like a lifetime to Teal'c. The steady whirring of the helicopter's rotors and the radio chatter back and forth between their pilot and co-pilot had filled the silence, leaving the three members of SG-1 and General Hammond to their own thoughts. Considering their reason for making the trip, every single second of silence had given their imaginations the chance to taunt them with one more gruesome scenario in the never-ending nightmare loop of horrific possible outcomes playing in each of their heads. Touching down in the desert heat had been bittersweet; they were guaranteed to answer at least one of the many questions plaguing them, yet there was the lingering threat that they might not like the answer they uncovered.

The elevator doors opened with a quiet ping, snapping Teal'c back to the task at hand. They filed out one by one, the same solemn silence from the trip over still enveloping the quartet. Teal'c fell into step at the back of the group, willing to let the others take the lead. The city employee now guiding them through a maze of hallways had explained how the identification procedure would work, but Teal'c had been too distracted by his tumultuous emotions to pay much attention.

"Which one of you…" the morgue employee began sympathetically, glancing between the four men awkwardly. It was painfully obvious that he didn't know what to make of the group before him, and that uncertainty had left him slightly rattled.

"I will," Teal'c, Jack and Hammond replied at the same time Daniel chimed in with "I can't."

Their guide shifted uncomfortably and glanced back and forth between the three candidates still in the running for the unfortunate task of identifying the dead woman.

Jack rested a hand on his archaeologist's shoulder and squeezed gently, silently reassuring him that they all understood how he felt. The flash of pain Teal'c saw in Daniel's eyes was reflected in Jack's and that made the decision easy for him. Wishing to save the others from the distress of having to identify the body of a friend, Teal'c volunteered a second time. He might not understand all of the appropriate procedures, but he had been exposed to enough pop culture to know that once inside the room, all he would be expected to do was look at the dead woman and state whether or not it was Sam.

"No," Hammond argued firmly, almost before Teal'c had even finished speaking. "I will. If it is her, none of you should have to see her like that."

"Neither should you, sir," Daniel rebutted quietly, gazing at the older man with doleful eyes.

Those few short words were enough to let Teal'c know that all of their thoughts had headed down the same path. They were all recalling Hammond's long-standing friendship with Sam's father and the photos of a proud honorary uncle holding a blonde haired, blue eyed little girl who would one day grow into one of the leading scientific minds of her generation. Though kept off base, the photos held pride of place in the general's home and all four of them knew it.

Nodding his appreciation, Hammond nonetheless turned and followed the professionally detached city employee into the viewing room. They all knew Hammond considered it to be just one more instance of doing what he could to protect the people under his command; though grateful, the three members of SG-1 all regretted what doing so could end up costing their commander in the long-run.

With nothing left to do but wait, Teal'c took up a position across from the viewing room and clasped his hands behind his back. His outward calm belied the dread that had settled in the pit of his stomach when he'd first been called in to Hammond's office and informed of the latest development in the search for Sam. Anyone who knew him well could have easily spotted the anxiety shining from his eyes, but his teammates' attention was elsewhere. In all likelihood they, like him, were making the most of the last few minutes they had to prepare themselves for the worst.

In a futile effort to distract his tortured thoughts, Teal'c split his attention between the door Hammond had disappeared through and his teammates. Seeing their familiar behavior – after so many years together, Teal'c knew the intricacies of Jack's restless pacing and Daniel's protective self-hugs as well as he'd ever known his wife's body language – was usually soothing, but even that was not enough to calm him right now. Although he found the wait agonizing, he understood that Hammond needed time to prepare himself for what he might see. Teal'c certainly couldn't begrudge the other man that. Still, this was one of the most difficult situations he had ever had to exercise patience in, and Teal'c felt a perverse sense of relief wash over him when at last the door opened again.

"It's not her," Hammond stated confidently, watching relief slump three sets of taut shoulders and ease some of the lines of tension that had become engraved in the SG-1 members' faces in the last few days.

"Are you sure?" Jack pressed, the words escaping him in a shaky sigh. He was sorely tempted to demand that he be allowed to see for himself, though he knew that the last thing he needed in his head right now was the image of a dead woman who looked enough like his 2IC to warrant a trip to Nevada.

"Positive," came the firm reassurance.

"So what do we do now?" Daniel asked the room at large, his self-hug getting tighter as he looked at the other three with wide blue eyes. Beneath their collective relief, they were all painfully aware they had reached yet another dead-end.

"Now we return to Cheyenne Mountain and continue to hope for Major Carter's safe return, doing what we are able to locate her," Teal'c replied calmly. Locking eyes with each of the others in turn, he received three determined nods, reaffirming their commitment to finding their missing friend.


	26. Chapter 26

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Dave Dixon exited the elevator and reluctantly approached the SF standing guard outside the only occupied holding cell on the whole level. Until five minutes ago, things had been relatively quiet since Hammond had headed out to Nevada with the men of SG-1, and Dixon had foolishly begun to think that things would _remain_ quiet until his temporary stint as commander of the SGC was over. He was already regretting the moment that thought had first crossed his mind and he didn't even know why he'd been called down here yet.

"What's the problem, Sergeant?" Dixon asked, mentally crossing his fingers that the problem would be a minor one that he could deal with in two minutes or less and then be on his way. Or better yet, one that could wait until Hammond was back.

"Sir," the young man replied uncertainly, looking over his shoulder into the cell. "Someone showed up at the front gate approximately fifteen minutes ago, claiming to know about Major Carter's disappearance."

"We expected that," Dixon reminded. Hell, there had been a whole briefing outlining security procedures to deal with the wackos who would no doubt start showing up on their doorstep as soon as the media began reporting on Sam's kidnapping. The conspiracy nuts always had a field day when people involved in highly classified projects disappeared without a trace; the conspiracy nuts near Cheyenne Mountain were no different.

"Yes, sir, I know," the sergeant replied uncomfortably. "And we were escorting him off the premises, as per protocol, but then he started telling us details that were never released to the media, sir."

"Could it be a lucky guess?" Dixon pressed, his mind wandering to the syringe that had been used to sedate Sam. After all, it didn't take a rocket scientist to guess that a single person would be hard-pressed to snatch a highly trained air force officer in broad daylight without _some_ kind of advantage. It certainly wouldn't be the first time someone had shown up at their front door spouting 'crazy talk' that just happened to be wacky enough to have a shred of truth to it.

"I don't think so, sir."

"All right, let me in," Dixon decided, taking just a few seconds to think it over. He was still skeptical that the man in the cell was legit, but at least for a minute or two, Dixon was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"One more thing, sir," the young SF shifted awkwardly, hesitating just shy of opening the door to the holding cell. "He claims to know where Major Carter is."

"He does?" Dixon sought confirmation, his heart jumping into his throat. "How?"

"We aren't sure we believe him, sir, but he says he's the one who kidnapped her."

"We're recording everything that goes on in that room, sound and video?" Dixon asked, even as he reached for the doorknob, impatient to actually get in there and determine if they had finally stumbled across the break they'd been waiting for.

"Yes, sir," the younger man assured. He quickly unlocked the door and moved aside, granting Dixon access to what could quite possibly turn out to be the most useful lead they'd gotten so far.

"I want a tape of this waiting in the briefing room when General Hammond and SG-1 get back," Dixon instructed quietly before stepping inside and getting his first glimpse of the person who had caused such a ruckus at the surface.

"Where's Colonel O'Neill?" the young man demanded, halting his anxious pacing when he finally saw who had been sent to interrogate him. "I need to speak with him right away."

"He's busy," Dixon replied coolly, crossing his arms over his chest. Although he was anxious to learn if the man before him's claims were true, he knew his best chance of getting information was to come across as indifferent.

"What about Doctor Jackson? Or Teal'c?" the prisoner pressed anxiously, resuming his pacing back and forth across the room.

The third name caught Dixon by surprise, but he didn't show it. "Sorry, you're stuck with me. If you tell me something that I think is worth passing on, I'll make sure it goes through the proper channels."

"Look, I don't have time to play games with you people!" the other man exploded impatiently, throwing his arms out in exasperation.

"You showed up out of nowhere, claiming to have abducted an officer from this command, not to mention a good friend of mine," Dixon snapped back shortly, narrowing his eyes. "Trust me, _no one_ is taking this lightly. Now, who are you and how do you know so much about what happened to Major Carter?"

"My name is Trevor Pearson and I know because I was there," the other man stated bluntly, his hazel eyes locked on Dixon. "I kidnapped Major Carter two days ago and the NID ordered me to do it."


	27. Chapter 27

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Sam turned her head away from the bright light that spilled through the door, scrunching her eyes against the stabs of pain it sent through her already pounding head. Slight as it was, the movement triggered another harsh coughing fit that left her lungs spasming painfully as they struggled to draw breath. Sam tried to make out more than just the silhouette of the person standing in the doorway, noting that something looked off, somehow different from the person who'd visited her so far, but looking into the light simply hurt too much. Giving up on that idea, she sat up slowly and pulled the sleeping bag tighter around herself, trying to ward off the chills chasing through her body even though she knew the shivers would likely last until her raging fever broke.

"Where is he?" an unfamiliar voice demanded. The flashlight he shined in her face blinded her and increased the throbbing in her head, but even blind and distracted by the pain, she could tell he was studying her carefully.

"Who?" Sam managed to rasp out once her coughing had died down. She had a pretty good idea who the 'he' in question was, but she feigned ignorance in the hope of gleaning some new information about her situation.

"The only person who's been in here in the last three days," New Guy growled, indicating that he had no patience for answering stupid questions posed by someone who was supposed to be so smart.

_Amateur,_ Sam smirked, pleased to know that even feeling like death warmed over wasn't enough to put her _completely_ off her game. She now had an idea of roughly how long she'd been missing for, and she hadn't even had to try very hard to find out.

"How should I know?" she retorted, seizing the opportunity to continue being difficult. "Whoever _he _is, he hasn't made a habit of running things past me before he does them. That's why I'm _here_." She tried to muster the energy for 'scathing', but what she managed was just a few notches above 'petulant'. Still, it was the thought that counted and she was sure Jack would be proud.

"If you're well enough to be a smart ass, you're well enough to answer Pearson's questions," New Guy replied angrily. Turning, he left the tiny room, banging the heavy metal door shut behind him and locking it with more force than Sam thought was really necessary. Her aching head throbbed again, clearly taking her side on the matter.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness once more, Sam laid still and tried to assimilate the new information she'd just gathered, filling in a few more of the blanks that had been weighing so heavily on her mind.

She could now put a name to the face of her kidnapper; searching for a 'Pearson' with ties to the NID would certainly be easier than scanning through all the personnel photos of young, white men with brown hair and hazel eyes who worked for the US government.

More importantly, however, it seemed that she'd managed to get under her kidnapper's skin last night, prompting him to break the pattern he had established and, apparently, to disappear altogether. Whatever the NID's plans had been, Pearson's disappearance had thrown a huge spanner in the works and she just hoped that in the end, it worked out to her advantage.

_And round two goes to the good guys,_ Sam congratulated herself, reveling in her victories, minor as they were.

Feeling a spark of hope, she lay back down and curled up on her side, determined to rest. She had no idea what would happen next, but she would be as prepared as she possibly could be for whatever came her way.


	28. Chapter 28

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"It wasn't her," Jack declared, dropping into a chair at the briefing room table. The words came across as casual, but Dixon knew the other man well enough to hear the relief that twined its way through every syllable.

"I know," Dixon replied, nodding in acknowledgement as General Hammond, Teal'c and Daniel made their way into the briefing room and also took up seats at the table. "The grapevine worked at light speed on that news."

It was true. Hammond had called to say they were on their way back and Walter had taken the message, since Dixon had been in with Pearson at the time. Walter, in a demonstration of his continuing psychic ability to predict his orders before they were given, had passed the information along to a few key personnel and before long, the entire base had been buzzing with the good news. In fact, word had spread so fast that Dixon was actually the last to know, overhearing a pair of passing scientists as he'd stepped out of the interrogation a mere twenty minutes after the call had been made.

"We were told you needed to see us right away, Colonel," Hammond prompted anxiously. Every time his phone rang or the gate activated in the last three days, he worried that a situation threatening Earth was brewing that would force him to divert the SGC's resources away from the search for Sam. Now, after being all but cut off from the SGC for a few hours, he was left hoping that it hadn't finally happened.

"Early this afternoon, SFs at the front gate took a man into custody who claimed to have abducted Major Carter," Dixon began. That information got everyone's attention and even Jack sat up straight, his eyes fixed on Dixon.

"His name is Trevor Pearson; he's a captain in the army," Dixon went on, passing out copies of the man's personnel folder. "Frasier, MacKenzie and I have all gone over his medical file and there's no history or even any symptoms of mental illness. There are, however, some possible ties to the NID, which he claims to work for."

"Did you talk to him?" Daniel asked while flipping rapidly through the file, his eyes quickly skimming over the sections of text that someone had taken the time to highlight.

"Yeah," Dixon replied. "I was in with him for over an hour."

"Is he for real?" Jack asked, his eyes begging for an affirmative even though the rest of his features were carefully schooled into neutrality.

"I think so," Dixon advised cautiously. "He knows everything we do, including _every single_ detail we withheld from the media, he matches the description we got from Carter's neighbor, and when I asked him to fill in some of the blanks for us, his answers made sense. I had the session taped; you can watch it yourselves and see what you think."

"Does Captain Pearson know where we may find Major Carter?" Teal'c asked, hope lighting his features, though you had to know him well in order to be able to see it.

"Yes…" Dixon replied hesitantly. He'd known they would ask – he'd have to be crazy to think they wouldn't – but still, he'd been hoping to avoid having to temper the good news with another helping of even more bad.

"Where is she?" Jack demanded, getting to his feet and sending his chair rolling back from the table with so much force that it bounced off the wall behind him.

"I don't know. He won't tell anybody where she is until we guarantee to protect him from the NID," Dixon sighed. He knew what Hammond's next words would be, even before he had the chance to say them.

"I'm not willing to make any agreements without being able to confirm that his information is good," Hammond stated firmly, shooting a pointed look at Jack until the older man retrieved his chair and retook his seat. "We have enough trouble with the NID as things stand right now; I'm not willing to involve this command in the internal politics of the NID unless we can guarantee that his information is for real. For all we know, Captain Pearson may have had a change of heart after joining the NID and could simply be manipulating our current situation to his own advantage. "

"I understand that, sir," Dixon acquiesced, jumping in before the others could. One of the benefits of knowing what Hammond was going to say was that it had given him time to prepare an argument against it. "But if he works for the NID – and I believe he does – then he took a big risk coming to us, whether or not he was involved in the kidnapping. One way or another, he's already in a lot of trouble, sir, and I don't see why he would claim responsibility for something that will wind him up in more if he wasn't involved in the first place."

"General," Daniel jumped in, more enthusiastic then he had been about anything in days. "If this is for real, then we need to move quickly. It's only a matter of time before the NID realizes Pearson has disappeared and moves Sam."

"I'm aware of that, son," Hammond acknowledged patiently. "Let's watch the interrogation and then we'll make a decision. Colonel Dixon, can we get a copy of the tape?"

"It's already in the VCR, sir, cued up and ready to go," Dixon replied, gesturing to the TV and VCR that had been set up behind Hammond's usual place at the head of the table.

As the general grabbed the remote, the three SG-1 members exchanged hopeful glances, desperately wanting to believe that this was the big break they had been hoping for. Leaning back in his chair, Dixon settled in to watch the other men's reactions, hoping for Sam's sake that the others believe the tape and, more importantly, that Pearson was for real.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N:** In this chapter, words in italics represent footage from Dixon's interrogation of Pearson. If this section is as clear as mud, let me know and I'll try coming at it from another angle. And now on with the show… Enjoy!

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

_"My name is Trevor Pearson and I know because I was there. I kidnapped Major Carter two days ago and the NID ordered me to do it."_

"I knew it!" Jack exclaimed quietly, keeping his voice down so that he could still hear every word on the tape. A heartbeat later, he was offering his CO an apologetic smile in response to the pointed look the older man shot in his direction.

_"Start from the beginning," Dixon instructed._

_ "Two years ago, Colonel Harry Mayborne recruited me into the NID. I was supposed to join the rogue team operating from an off-world base and was due to ship out less than thirty-six hours after Colonel O'Neill busted the whole thing wide open," Pearson said calmly, clearly emphasizing the details that could help convince Dixon that he was telling the truth. "Ever since, I've been doing odd jobs for the NID, including keeping Major Carter under surveillance since the incident with the alien over the summer," Pearson added, settling himself in a chair. He was seated for just a few seconds before he started unconsciously jiggling his leg, a sure sign that he was nervous despite the indifferent attitude he'd adopted._

_"Lovely, really," Dixon stated, sounding impatient and bored. "Can we skip to the point where you supposedly kidnap my friend?"_

_"I got a call from one of my superiors late Tuesday morning, telling me that Major Carter had been sent home with pneumonia and that we were taking the opportunity to grab her. I was under orders to do the kidnapping myself."_

_"When do you get to the part where you start trying to convince me you're for real?" Dixon sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at his watch pointedly._

_"What do you want to know?" Pearson asked, a hint of desperation working its way into his words._

_"How did the kidnapping go down?" If he couldn't get the details right, Dixon wouldn't waste any more time on him, happily leaving him locked up down here until Hammond returned. Maybe longer. _

_"I dressed like an SF and knocked on her door. When she answered, I pretended that Doctor Janet Frasier, the CMO here, had sent me over with her prescription" Pearson added, emphasizing details once again. "As soon as I confirmed that she was alone, I sedated her with thiopental. She fought me, but she was too weak for it to matter. I dropped the syringe on the floor and kicked it under the round oak table in her front hall."_

"We didn't release that to the media," Daniel noted quietly. "There was nothing in the news about the syringe or the thiopental."

_"And then what?" Dixon pressed, affecting an air of annoyance that his time was being wasted. He was convinced that this guy was for real, but knew better than to let it show; as soon as Pearson stopped believing he had to prove he was telling the truth, he would gain control of the situation, and Dixon had no intention of relinquishing that power just yet. "You carried her out to your car in broad daylight and no one noticed?"_

_"There was an old lady! One of Major Carter's neighbors, I guess," Pearson answered hopefully, sensing that this was his big chance to prove he was being honest. "She was worried and she stopped me, but I pretended Major Carter had passed out and that I was bringing her to the base for help. The neighbor lady let me go, so I made a show of buckling the major up and then drove off."_

"This matches the version of events Mrs. Smithson shared with us," Teal'c observed, his eyebrow creeping up his forehead.

_"Then what?" Dixon pressed, testing the younger man with the last piece of hard information they had. "I need details before I can take this to my superiors."_

_ "On the radio they said you had found the car," Pearson stated, his eyes locking on Dixon's. "What they didn't say was that you found it abandoned near Denver. I left it at an airfield and transferred Major Carter to another vehicle, then drove to the location my superiors decided on."_

_ "Which would be where, exactly?" Dixon asked calmly, although his heart was racing with anticipation. As far as he was concerned, they now had the man responsible for Sam's kidnapping in custody, bringing them one step closer to finding her._

_ "I'm not saying another word until I know how you're going to protect me from the NID," Pearson insisted, leaning back and crossing his arms stubbornly._

"Smart," Jack grudgingly admitted, leaning back in his own chair.

_"Look pal," Dixon growled, his voice low and dangerous. Moving closer allowed him to loom menacingly over the younger man, and he used his height to its full advantage. "You just confessed to kidnapping an officer in the United States Air Force. You're not exactly in a strong bargaining position."_

_ "Oh, I don't know about that," Pearson smirked, relaxing as he sensed he had finally gained the upper hand. "After all, I _am_ your only hope of finding Major Carter."_

"The rest of the tape is really just a rerun of the last minute or two," Dixon piped up, prompting Hammond to stop the tape and turn his attention back to the men seated around the table.

"I think this guy is the real deal," Jack stated, his steady gaze fixed on Hammond.

"Me too," Daniel chimed in, hopeful blue eyes pinned on the man at the head of the table.

"None of us think he's an NID agent manipulating the situation to his own advantage and pretending to be a turncoat?" Hammond sought confirmation. He knew his own judgment was compromised and was counting on the others in the room to consider all angles. Not that any of them were really in a position to be impartial right now, but he had to at least ask.

"I believe this is a possibility, General Hammond," Teal'c agreed, folding his hands calmly on top of the table. "However, this seems unlikely. I am convinced that Captain Pearson is telling the truth about his role in Major Carter's kidnapping."

"I need to call the president before I can promise anything," Hammond reminded, pushing back from the table and rising, prompting the others to clamor to their feet. "In the meantime, I want the four of you to brainstorm our next move, taking into account the chance that the president might refuse to authorize me to make a deal with Captain Pearson."

"Yes, sir," they replied in unison, all retaking their seats as the general made his way out of the briefing room.

Pulling their chairs closer together, the four men set about formulating a plan. But only one; regardless of what the president said, they would be chasing down the only lead they'd had on Sam's whereabouts in almost two full days.


	30. Chapter 30

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"What the hell happened?" Senator Robert Kinsey thundered angrily. He threw the personnel file on to the table so hard that its contents spilled out, leaving the source of his ire staring up at him from a photograph.

"We have no idea," Simmons answered, struggling to keep his irritation out of his voice. Kinsey had an annoying tendency to bluster unhelpfully when push came to shove and Simmons knew that if given the chance to hit his stride, the other man could go for hours on end. They really didn't have that sort of time right now. "No one's heard from Pearson since he called in this morning. He could have bailed on the op, or…"

"Could something have happened to him?" Kinsey interrupted, clearly hoping something unfortunate had befallen the man in question. "An accident maybe? Have we looked into the possibility?"

"We've put out word to local hospitals and morgues," Simmons replied snarkily, resenting the implication that he had no idea how to handle the situation. "We _have _done this before."

A tense silence settled over the two, both considering what it would mean for them personally if this operation were blown. The NID had a low tolerance for failure and both were painfully aware of what happened to those whose errors caused problems for the organization.

"We need to move her _now_," Kinsey declared heatedly, slamming his hand down on the table so hard that his coffee sloshed over the side of his mug.

"I'll make the call," Simmons agreed, getting to his feet.

"No," Kinsey said sharply. "It's obvious your people can't be trusted. See to it yourself."

"If I don't put in another appearance at Stargate Command, it might raise a few eyebrows."

"Really?" the senator said skeptically, his own eyebrows rising in surprise. "Tell me, how many people at Cheyenne Mountain have you managed to convince that you're actually there to help find Major Carter?"

"I didn't hear _you_ making a better suggestion to keep tabs on how their search was progressing," Simmons retorted, reminding him that although their plan had been imperfect, it had been as close to perfection as they could make it.

"Call me when you've got her," Kinsey instructed dismissively, still fuming.

Simmons got to his feet and took his briefcase in hand, waiting for any final instructions the other man might have for him, but it quickly became clear that none were forthcoming. Kinsey didn't even look up, too busy glaring at Pearson's photograph to acknowledge that there was anyone else in his office with him. After waiting out a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Simmons decided he would have to do some prompting if there was to be any further conversation.

"Have our final plans changed?" Simmons asked, trying to sound disinterested. He knew with absolute certainty that Sam would be able to identify him and was slightly concerned that sending him to retrieve her was the NID's way of cutting him loose for botching the operation.

"Lord only knows what Pearson told her," the older man sighed in exasperation, his blood pressure creeping up even higher as he realized just how much damning information Pearson could have revealed. "We'll have to kill her after all."

Simmons relaxed marginally, too much the seasoned professional to let his relief show. Instead, he pressed for more details, trying to simultaneously clarify his instructions and discern what his superiors were planning. "And if Pearson shows up?"

"Our original plans for him stand. If you find him, kill him."


	31. Chapter 31

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"Where will we find Major Carter?" Teal'c growled, storming into the tiny holding cell, anger radiating off him in endless waves.

Pearson jumped, startled by the Jaffa's abrupt entrance. His hazel eyes widened in horrified bewilderment, taking in the muscles that rippled as Teal'c slammed the door shut behind him and stalked across the room. Despite every instinct that demanded he get out of the incensed man's way immediately, Pearson sat frozen in place, too terrified to move. He'd known it had been a gamble, dangling the information these people were so desperate for right under their noses and then refusing to give it to them, but he had done so believing that the same frustrating morality that guided SGC actions on the other side of the stargate would apply right here on Earth. Now, Pearson wasn't so sure he could count on morality to protect him.

"I will not request this information from you again," Teal'c warned, looming over the terrified man and seething with barely restrained fury. His thin black t-shirt was pulled taut over the tensed muscles of his back and upper arms, making it clear to the younger man that he would definitely be sharing his intel; his only choice in the matter would be whether he did so the easy way or the painful way. "Where will we find Major Carter?"

"N-n-not without my deal," Pearson stuttered, his eyes darting over to the security camera hanging on the wall. He could see that the red light was still on, indicating that the camera was recording, but he didn't find that knowledge very reassuring. He was pretty sure that if Teal'c decided to beat him to a pulp, it would be done before security could even get the door unlocked.

Without a word, Teal'c reached into his pocket and Pearson's eyes widened even further, fearful of what alien torture device he was about to be subjected to. Pearson flinched when Teal'c whipped his hand out of his pocket and slammed a single piece of paper down on the table Pearson was seated at.

"You will tell me _now_," Teal'c demanded, leaving no room for argument.

With shaking hands, Pearson unfolded the paper and read it over once, then went back and re-read it twice more, just to be sure that he'd read it correctly. Satisfied, he set the signed orders back on the table, the few short sentences guaranteeing him a position in witness protection in return for information on the NID's illegal activities, including the kidnapping of Samantha Carter, staring up at him reassuringly.

"There's an old nuclear facility, it's only about twenty minutes from here," Pearson stated, feeling some of his stress melt away now that his safety was guaranteed. "It was abandoned years ago but the NID still uses it occasionally."

"Come," Teal'c commanded, grabbing Pearson by the shoulder and hauling him roughly to his feet.

"Why?" Pearson asked, panic welling in his chest as Teal'c manhandled him to the door. "I just told you…"

"You will accompany us. If you have not been honest with me, the consequences of your deceit will be felt immediately," Teal'c promised, hammering on the door with a tightly clenched fist.

Moments later, there was a faint click, signaling that the door had been unlocked. The thick slab of metal was quickly pulled open to reveal Jack and Daniel waiting anxiously in the corridor. Their hopeful eyes ignored Pearson altogether, instead locking on Teal'c. He gave them an almost imperceptible nod and saw relief wash over his teammates' faces.

"You will need to change," Teal'c growled to Pearson, steering him towards the elevator. "And while you are doing so, you will provide us with all of the intelligence we will require to successfully retrieve Major Carter."

"Where is she?" Daniel asked, jogging to catch up with the Jaffa and his prisoner.

"The nuclear facility to which we took Cassandra Frasier several years ago," Teal'c replied, forcefully jabbing the button to summon the elevator.

Twin looks of disbelief mixed with disappointment stared back at him, mirroring Teal'c's own feelings towards the news. In the last three days, SGC personnel had traveled so many miles and called in so many favors trying to find Sam, and the whole time, she had been just a few short miles away.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N:** Sorry folks, it was a crazy day in RL and I didn't get through the revisions to as many chapters as I'd planned. I'll do my best to get at least two or three up tonight, and I'll try to make up for it with a bigger update tomorrow. Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing so far - you're all awesome! : )

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Simmons parked his brand new SUV behind a clump of trees just a little over a hundred yards from the entrance to the usually abandoned building. Craning his neck and making good use of the vehicle's mirrors, he took a careful look at his surroundings. One of the reasons the NID liked this location was the lack of cover around the building's perimeter. Unfortunately for him, this was now proving to be quite the disadvantage; if he wanted to be able to monitor all activity in the area, he had no choice but to remain in the small stand of trees. Deciding that the closer he was to the building, the better, Simmons shut off the engine and slipped the key out of the ignition, pocketing it. Exiting the vehicle, he took up a position that gave him a clear view of the one and only entrance and exit to the building.

Sweeping his eyes over the area, Simmons saw nothing that gave him cause for concern. Although there was no sign of the Jeep Pearson was supposed to be using to get around since dumping the car used in the kidnapping, there were also no signs that anyone else had paid a visit to the site recently.

That Pearson had suddenly up and disappeared would certainly make it harder to take him out, but as far as Simmons was concerned, that was one of the perks of having underlings. If Pearson didn't turn up here, he would simply have to put out the word and wait for an eager-to-please subordinate to carry out the order. Kinsey would be unhappy, but Simmons could care less; he would rather his subordinates take the risks associated with an assassination than do the deed himself.

Suddenly, a distant low rumble interrupted his musings and shattered the quiet of the early afternoon. Cursing roundly, Simmons remained still and listened, needing only a few seconds to identify the sound of an approaching engine. For a few moments, he considered that Pearson might finally be returning, but any hope of that was soon dashed; there were multiple vehicles approaching his position. From the rapidly increasing volume of the vehicles' engines, they seemed to be in a hurry, quickly eating up the remaining miles between their current positions and his. Letting loose another long string of curses, Simmons made sure he was well hidden and waited impatiently for the convoy to appear.

Within two minutes of hearing the approaching vehicles, the entire area was swarming with SUVs and men clad in black combat gear; it seemed the cavalry from the SGC had arrived. Despite his best efforts, it was impossible to make out individual people from this distance, with the exception of one. Teal'c's hulking form was always easy to pick out in a crowd and, Simmons assumed, the figure being manhandled across the open area towards the building was probably Pearson. Simmons could think of no other explanation for the SGC suddenly showing up here.

The sheer number of people milling around provided all the justification Simmons needed for deviating from Kinsey's plan. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed a number he'd only recently memorized and issued a terse, one sentence command. That done, he sat back to wait for his reinforcements to arrive. He didn't care what Kinsey said, trying to take Pearson out now would be suicide and there was no reason to take that risk himself when he had a carload of enthusiastic underlings waiting just half a mile away.


	33. Chapter 33

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"Remember, we have no way of knowing if the NID has figured out that Pearson turned yet," Jack said loudly, his eyes raking over the group assembled before him. "So everyone keep your eyes pealed and _be careful_; there's only one way in and out of this place and I don't want anybody walking into an ambush today. Unless of course, it's an NID SOB walking into _our_ ambush; that I'm okay with. Are we clear?"

His words were met with a chorus of 'yes sirs' from fourteen of the fifteen men. There were a few flexing fingers as grips on weapons were adjusted and ear pieces were inserted, but no one seemed to be having second thoughts about their participation in the rescue mission. When word had gotten out that they had determined the location Sam was being held at, Jack had been inundated with volunteers offering to accompany the men of SG-1 and in the end, Hammond had limited him to a force of only fifteen men. Although Jack had understood the general's reasoning – they had no reason to believe they would encounter any real resistance – he'd been put in the awkward position of having to turn volunteers away. Unable to choose, Jack had ended up taking the first twelve people who'd approached him, with himself, Daniel and Teal'c rounding out the group. Having been dragged to the supposedly abandoned facility against his will, the irony of which wasn't lost on Jack, Pearson hadn't been included in the count and ultimately, hadn't even been given a weapon; no one trusted him not to turn it on one of their people or even on himself.

"Pearson," Jack barked, glowering at the man in question. "You're with Feretti's team. Daniel, if he doesn't lead you straight to Carter, shoot him."

"With pleasure," Daniel assured, glaring at the army officer. He bit back a grin when Pearson audibly gulped. All the time he'd spent around Jack and Teal'c had taught Daniel a thing or two about intimidation and though he didn't use those lessons often, he was always pleased with the results when he did.

"All right, let's move out," Jack commanded, slipping off his sunglasses and letting them hang around his neck. "Boys, keep this area secure," he added, nodding at the four young men charged with standing guard outside.

With that, Jack, Teal'c and Dixon led the charge into the abandoned building, sweeping their weapons across the interior before summoning the rest of the group forward. It was a bit cramped inside, and a few of them had to keep their weapons lowered so as to avoid pointing them at one of their own people, but the close quarters were only temporary. Once inside, Daniel, Feretti and a young lieutenant made straight for the elevator, dragging a visibly paling Pearson along with them. Although the seconds seemed to drag on, the doors slid open soon after, clanking loudly in the otherwise silent building. Daniel's group stepped inside, pleased to find that the elevator was big enough to hold all four of them rather comfortably.

"The basement," Pearson said quietly, his wide, scared eyes noting that everyone present was watching him expectantly. "I left her in the basement."

Daniel moved to jab the proper button, but Feretti beat him to it, hammering on it impatiently until the doors began to slide closed. As his view of the main level grew narrower and narrower, Daniel locked eyes with first Teal'c and then Jack, trying his best to reassure them that they were just minutes away from having Sam back. The last things he saw were Teal'c's encouraging nod and Jack's tight smile, then the thick metal doors closed completely and the car began its slow descent into the depths of the old nuclear facility. The silence in the elevator was tinged with equal parts anticipation and nervousness, plus the sheer terror radiating off Pearson.

"I didn't hurt her," Pearson murmured out of the blue, his voice so quiet that Daniel barely heard him over the mechanical creaking of the elevator's gears.

"Is that supposed to make what you _did_ do better somehow?" Feretti demanded, turning a steely glare on the already terrified young man.

"No," Pearson replied quietly, meeting Daniel's eye. Though the archaeologist had been the least hostile towards him, Pearson was smart enough to recognize the threat Daniel posed if his teammate had been harmed and sought to try and explain his actions. "But still, I want you to know that I only went along with it because she wasn't supposed to get hurt. I joined the NID to better serve my country, not for free license to behave like a thug."

"You've got your deal," Daniel replied, regarding the other man coldly. "Your motives don't matter anymore. But just so we're clear, if _anything_ has happened to Sam, regardless of whether or not it's your fault, I'm holding you responsible and protective custody or not, you'll be sorry you had any part in this."

Before Pearson could do more than pale even further in the wake of the threat, the elevator shuddered to a halt and the doors slid open. For better or for worse, they were here and would either find Sam or not. Taking a deep breath, Daniel settled the anxious flutter in the pit of his stomach and followed Feretti out into the dimly lit corridor.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: **Sorry for leaving you all hanging yesterday. There seems to be general agreement that I am the Evil (times infinity) Queen of Cliffhangers, and I'm delighted to have earned the title... I worked hard for it! : ) As promised, today's update is going to be a big one, since I'm trying to make up for yesterday. The story is moving along, but we've still got some ground to cover before we get to the end! Thanks to everyone who's still reading and reviewing - I hope the next few chapters don't disappoint! And now, on with the show. Enjoy! : )

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

The elevator doors rattled open once more, the empty car ready to take the next team down. One by one, Jack, Dixon and Reynolds filed inside, leaving four men topside to provide support for the team outside, as well as the teams venturing down into the reportedly abandoned building. Pearson had been positive that the elevator was the only way to move between levels, so the plan was to sweep down through the facility, rounding up any members of the NID that were on the premises. Although Jack hated the fact that there was only one way up, he liked that it guaranteed no one would be able to sneak up past them and escape. He planned on personally rounding up every last member of the NID who'd been even remotely involved in this mess and making sure they ended up behind bars for a long, long time. Eternity would be nice, but he'd settle for life sentences all around.

Being closest to the panel, Teal'c hammered on the button that would take them one floor down, pressing so hard that the thick plastic covering the button actually cracked. To most, it might appear that Teal'c had simply misjudged his own strength, but Jack knew better; his Jaffa teammate was well aware of just how strong he was and kept that strength carefully controlled, virtually never using more muscle than he intended to. Though small, the act left Jack with no doubt that Teal'c's nerves and patience were worn equally thin. If their search of the building failed to turn up their favorite astrophysicist, Jack was confident that Daniel wouldn't have to shoot Pearson; Teal'c would have him torn limb from limb before Daniel could even get his weapon unholstered. Jack was fine with that, just so long as the pair made sure there was a bit of the army captain left over for him.

Not surprisingly, the trip down was short and only seconds after the doors had shut, they were sliding open again. Cautiously, Jack, Teal'c and Reynolds stepped into the darkness of the first level, leaving Dixon in the elevator with one foot resting on the door track to keep them from closing. With their P-90s aimed into the unknown, the thin beams from their weapon-mounted flashlights slicing through the darkness, they slowly advanced further into the room. Picking their way around raised pipes and long-forgotten furniture, the trio eventually cleared the room and fell back to the elevator.

When the last man was inside, Dixon pulled his foot back into the car and allowed the doors to rattle shut. Impatiently, Jack pressed the button for the next level down and glanced at his watch, noting how slowly the seconds crept by. Daniel and the others had set out more than ten minutes ago and they had yet to make contact, offering neither good news nor a progress report. It could mean a million things, many of them innocuous, but Jack couldn't keep his mind from immediately jumping to worst-case scenarios.

"Daniel Jackson will soon locate Major Carter, O'Neill," Teal'c said confidently, his deep voice filling the small space and shattering the silence. "Within the hour, she will be safely returned to the infirmary and under Doctor Frasier's care once more."

"I hope so, big guy," Jack replied quietly, unable to set aside the doubt that lingered in his mind. He wished he could share his friend's confidence, but he couldn't shake the niggling fear that, so far, this had been a bit _too_ easy.

As the doors slipped open once more, Jack shook off the nervous anticipation that tried to distract him from the task at hand and forced himself to take a deep, steadying breath before giving the go order. Following Teal'c and Reynolds out into the darkness, Jack silently urged Daniel to hurry up and find their missing fourth already.


	35. Chapter 35

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"She's in there," Pearson instructed quietly, pointing to the lone door to be found in the entire basement.

The lieutenant was closest and hurried over, quickly spinning the crank that would unseal the door. Daniel and Feretti took up positions on the left-hand side of the door, waiting impatiently for the locking mechanism to finally slide completely out of place. A few seconds passed in a flurry of signals, Feretti's hands and fingers flying through a series of instructions, and then Pearson was pressing himself flat against the wall as the lieutenant flung the door open. Feretti entered the tiny room first, needing only a few seconds to clear the small, mostly empty space before he waved Daniel forward. A split second after getting the go ahead, Daniel was racing inside while the rest of the team took up defensive positions just outside the door, alert for any nasty surprises that might still be sprung on them.

"Sam?" Daniel called softly, slowly approaching the lump huddled under a sleeping bag in one corner of the dimly lit room.

"Daniel?" The reply was little more than a raspy wheeze, but it was unmistakably Sam.

Hearing her voice was enough to loosen the vice that had been incrementally tightening around his chest for the last three day and it sent a flood of relief coursing through his veins. Even without having ascertained her condition yet, this moment was exceeding what he'd dared to let himself hope for; she was not only alive, but conscious as well. Shakily, Daniel let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding and snapped into action.

"It's her!" Daniel called to the others. Rushing to his friend's side, he dropped to his knees, ignoring the sharp pain that lanced through the abused joints when they made contact with the hard concrete. "Are you hurt?" he demanded, pulling the sleeping bag back from her face to get his first look at her in three of the longest days of his life.

"No," she assured quietly before a harsh coughing fit stole over her, rattling wetly deep in her chest.

"It's okay," he soothed, resting a hand on her fiery forehead and wincing in sympathy as the fit dragged on and on. Holstering his weapon, he grabbed the hand that peeked out of the sleeping bag and squeezed reassuringly, offering what little comfort he could. "Everything's going to be fine."

When at last the coughing abated, Daniel released her hand and ran his fingers comfortingly through her sweat-matted hair. Sam gasped in a few breaths almost desperately before giving him a tired smile. Even though she looked like hell – and no doubt felt like it too – her smiling face was a sight for sore eyes and he tried to burn every detail of it into his memory.

"Knew you'd find me," Sam rasped.

The confidence in her words warmed his heart; even when his own faith had been flagging, hers had never wavered. He returned her smile and tangled his fingers in her short hair, reassuring himself that she was real.

"How long?" she asked quietly, her eyes taking in his drawn features and the bags under his eyes disapprovingly. He knew he'd be lucky if he managed to make it through the rest of the day without being subjected to one of her lectures about taking better care of himself.

"Three days," Daniel replied, sliding an arm under her shoulders and easing her into a sitting position. "Three very _long_ days. We've been worried sick."

"Sorry," she apologized sincerely. She shivered then as the sleeping bag slipped down her shoulders, the cool, damp air in the room seeming to pass right through the worn flannel of her pyjamas and dance across her overheated skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake.

"Hey, none of this is _your_ fault," Daniel assured, noting her increased trembling and adjusting the sleeping bag around her. He rubbed one hand over her back, trying to warm her with the friction the motion created. "Are you good to go?"

"Get me out of here," Sam pleaded, the request petering out as another coughing fit swallowed up her words. She hunched over, trying to support her aching ribs as much as she could. Three days straight of nothing but this damp, stale air had done her no favors, and now every breath caused sharp pains to arc through her chest; coughing only served to exacerbate the problem.

"Shh…" Daniel hushed, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and sliding the other under her bent knees. "Let's get you back to Janet."

With that, Daniel carefully got to his feet, his balance thrown slightly off by the coughing fit that left Sam's body jerking unpredictably in his arms. Usually Sam would argue about being carried out of just about anywhere until she was blue in the face and sometimes, depending on how stubborn she was feeling that day, even longer. But this time she offered up no protest, which spoke volumes about just how rough she was feeling at the moment. Holding her tight to his chest, Daniel turned to the door and made his way outside, joining the others just as Sam's coughing fit was ending.

Even as she gasped for breath, Sam relaxed against him and turned her head to rest more comfortably on his shoulder, making Daniel's heart a little lighter. Her comfortable weight in his arms offered him a tangible thing to hold on to and he wasn't planning to give it up anytime soon.

"Let's go," Daniel directed, his gaze skimming over two of the three waiting men. He was ignoring Pearson on purpose, sure that if he gave the younger man too much thought, he wouldn't be able to keep himself from asking Feretti to hold Sam while he took a few swings at the army captain. The others hesitated only a fraction of a second, just long enough to confirm that they really had Sam, and then they were moving.

"Sam, are you with us?" Feretti asked gently, keeping his eyes on their surroundings as he led the way back to the elevator. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop and wouldn't allow himself to relax until they were all back at the SGC, safe and sound.

"Yeah," she replied quietly, turning her head to smile at him. The person her eyes landed on, however, wasn't the one she'd been expecting to see.

"Daniel!" she hissed quietly, stiffening as her eyes scanned over just who had tagged along on the rescue mission. "That's the guy who…"

"We know," Daniel assured quietly, gently kissing her feverish forehead. "He turned himself in to the SGC; that's how we found you." Even with his reassurances, the tension didn't leave her body, so he added, "Relax, Sam, I'm not letting you out of my sight and I'm certainly not leaving you alone with him."

"I really, truly am sorry, ma'am," Pearson apologized, turning to look at her. His eyes were brimming with regret, but Sam wasn't convinced, having experienced first-hand just how good of an actor he could be.

"Don't speak to her," Feretti growled, grabbing the younger man's shoulder roughly. He spun Pearson so he was facing straight ahead, doing what little he could to separate the other man from Sam and Daniel. "Don't even _look_ at her."

"We radioed the others, sir," the lieutenant informed Daniel from his position at the rear. "Needless to say, everyone upstairs is pretty relieved right now."

Up ahead, Feretti summoned the elevator, keeping a careful eye on Pearson to make sure he didn't get too close to the pair of SG-1 members. When they caught up, Feretti placed himself between the three, covering Pearson and leaving the lieutenant to watch their backs. He hated having to divert his attention from their surroundings, but he still wasn't convinced that Pearson wasn't about to pull some stunt or other and Feretti would be damned if he gave him the chance he needed to do so.

Before long, the doors they were all gathered around rattled open and diverted Feretti's attention from his sullen contemplation of the army officer. As soon as he declared that the elevator was clear, the five of them piled in, all anxious to return to the SGC. This time, the lieutenant joined Feretti in forming a barrier between Sam and Pearson, which both SG-1 members were grateful for. The car had been large enough to fit four adults rather comfortably, but with five of them in there, it was a bit cramped and they couldn't avoid jostling each other at least a little as they all climbed in, and neither Sam nor Daniel wanted Pearson to be able to lay another hand on her.

"All personnel, be advised that we're bringing Major Carter up now," Feretti said into his radio, stabbing at the button that would take them back up to the main level. His eyes noted the cracked plastic covering over one of the buttons and he knew right away that either Jack or Teal'c's frustration with having to wait for news had boiled over. "Wait for word that we've reached the surface before trying to use the elevator."

"Roger that, Feretti," Jack's voice filled the elevator. "Daniel, I want you to go back to the SGC with Carter."

Daniel nodded once and Feretti conveyed his agreement to Jack. "No arguments there," Feretti grinned, his mood lifting despite his reservations that this had all been too easy. "Aren't you always moaning about how Daniel doesn't follow your orders?"

"I listen when I _like_ his orders," Daniel clarified, earning smirks from everybody but Pearson.

"He usually doesn't. Daniel, stop grinning," Jack demanded omnisciently, which only made Daniel's grin grow wider. "Is Carter awake?"

Feretti leaned in close and pressed the button to broadcast, dropping his shoulder closer to Sam so the microphone would pick up her hoarse voice.

"Yes, sir," she replied, another tired smile lighting her face. "It's good to hear your voice."

"We too are pleased to hear your voice, Major Carter," the familiar timbre of Teal'c's voice filled the elevator, his relief clear despite his calm tone.

"Okay kids, that's enough for now," Jack chastised, though it was clear he was teasing them rather than ordering them to keep the channel clear. "Let's save the rest; you'll all be playing nicely together again real soon."


	36. Chapter 36

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"Pearson betrayed us," Simmons informed the four men assembled before him, his rage at that fact simmering just beneath the surface of his calm, cool and collected façade. "He turned himself over to the SGC and at this very moment, he's leading the retrieval of Major Carter."

He paused, watching this information sink in. The young men in front of him all paled visibly, realizing the implications of Pearson's change of heart. They had all kept tabs on Sam Carter for months, which by itself could land each of them in some extremely hot water, considering where she worked. More worrying, however, was the fact that they had all been involved in the conspiracy to kidnap her; it was sheer dumb luck that it had been Pearson on duty when the go order was given and not one of them.

"We have no way of knowing how much he's told them already," Simmons noted, making eye contact with each of them in turn. "But if he's smart, he will have given them the minimum he could to secure a deal, with the promise of more to come later. We need to focus on damage control at this point."

"Which means what, exactly?" one of them worked up the nerve to ask.

"The four of you are going to go in and take Pearson out."

"He's _surrounded_ by SGC personnel," Booth argued, his sense of self-preservation kicking in. "They aren't just going to let us go in, shoot him, and get out."

"SGC don't shoot to kill when they're on earth," Simmons rebutted dismissively. "They may disable one of you, but the others will be able to pull you out once the job is done." He paused dramatically, letting them all process their latest set of orders. Though he may have appeared disinterested, Simmons was watching them all carefully, trying to make an important decision. In the silence that he allowed to stretch on and on, all but Wilkins shifted uncomfortably and that made Simmons' decision easy.

"This is what you all signed on for," he pressed, his eyes raking over each of them in turn. "Anyone who isn't comfortable with their orders to take out Pearson and, if the opportunity presents itself, Major Carter, is welcome to stay here with me," Simmons added. The offer sounded rather magnanimous, but everyone understood the implicit threat in his words. Anyone choosing to stay behind would not be allowed to leave alive.

"Understood, sir," Wilkins replied for everyone, confirming that Simmons had been right to single him out for a special assignment.

"Glad to hear it," Simmons snapped, obviously not enjoying having his orders questioned by his subordinates. "Move out. Wilkins, a word."

The others shuffled off, somewhat reluctantly heading back to their SUV to gear up and come up with a spur of the moment plan to get in, take out Pearson, and get out. Wilkins kept his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes focused directly ahead, not even shifting his gaze to follow the departure of the others. Simmons was impressed; the man appeared to be completely unflappable. It was a shame, really. Wilkins had the potential to go far in the NID, but his involvement in this operation had compromised him, severely limiting his future opportunities within the organization.

"The others are ill-suited to this line of work," Simmons said quietly, noting with approval that the younger man didn't even flinch at the poorly disguised command that simple sentence conveyed. "Booth was even stupid enough to let Carter see his face; he's a threat to the whole organization and once they get to him, it's just a matter of time before he spills everything he knows and turns the SGC on to the rest of us."

"Sir, are you telling me that you need Booth taken out?"

"No, I'm telling you I need _all_ of them taken out. Can you do it?"

"Yes, sir," the reply came without any hesitation. Wilkins knew what needed to be done and was willing to do it himself, regardless of how despicable the necessary actions might be.

"Go."

With a curt nod, Wilkins turned smartly and went to meet up with the others, leaving Simmons alone in the copse of trees. He watched the younger man walk away somewhat ruefully, contemplating the unfortunate twist that events had taken as a result of Pearson's duplicity. Wilkins definitely had a lot of potential – the last thirty seconds had proven that – but now that Pearson had so thoroughly botched things up, Wilkins' life, along with the lives of the other members of the surveillance team, was forfeit. The only thing that remained to be seen was whether Simmons would have to kill Wilkins himself, or if the group from the SGC would see to it themselves.


	37. Chapter 37

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"Close your eyes," Daniel advised Sam quietly, hesitating just shy of stepping out into the bright November sunlight. Instead of doing as she was told, she turned her face into his jacket and snuggled closer to him. "Good enough," he murmured with a smile, pressing his cheek against her hair as he stepped out into the cool fresh air.

"Get her out of the cold," Feretti instructed a fraction of a second after Daniel had stepped outside. Turning his attention on Pearson, he scowled and said, "You wait here, you're riding back with someone else."

"But…" Pearson began, eyes wide with panic. He desperately wanted to be back underneath Cheyenne Mountain, safely beyond the reach of the NID. He was painfully aware of the lengths his employers would go to in order to keep him quiet, and he was loathe to wait around for them to execute their plans. Or him.

"Look pal," Feretti snapped angrily, instinctively training his weapon on Pearson, even though he knew he would never open fire. He was a lot of things, but a cold-blooded killer wasn't one of them. "If you think we're letting you close enough to even _breathe_ on her, you're dumber than I thought, and my expectations were pretty low to start with."

Daniel tried and failed to bite back a grin, starting over to the nearest SUV to try and keep Pearson from seeing his amusement and thus ruining Feretti's 'Big Bad Air Force Major' routine. Sparing a look at the woman in his arms, he noted that she was wearing a grin that matched his own. In a day or two, he was certain that Sam would no longer find the overprotective streak her kidnapping had brought out in so many SGC personnel entertaining. For the moment, however, while her health precluded her from striking fear in the hearts of kindergarteners, never mind experienced soldiers, she seemed content to let others do her menacing and intimidating for her.

"If you think _that's_ good, you should have seen Teal'c trying to get Pearson to tell us where you were," Daniel advised, smirking at the memory. "_I_ was scared, and I wasn't even in the room!"

"I can imagine," Sam murmured, the thick material of his jacket muffling her voice somewhat.

"No, I don't think you can," Daniel argued quietly, his long legs quickly eating up the distance to the parked SUV. She had seen Teal'c's temper flare before, yes, but nothing else generated quite the same reaction in their teammate as Sam being in danger. Daniel knew it had nothing to do with the fact that she was a woman – despite the culture he'd been raised in, Teal'c had never treated her as anything less than the capable soldier that she was – but rather, he suspected it came down to a passing comment Jacob had made once. As he and Selmac been departing, Jacob had jokingly instructed the men of SG-1 to take good care of his daughter – much to her chagrin – and Daniel and Jack had responded in kind. Teal'c, however, had clapped his right fist to his heart and bowed his head, a grave expression on his face as he accepted the responsibility. To this day, Teal'c still considered Jacob's teasing to be a solemn request, no matter often Sam tried to convince him otherwise.

One of the young men left on guard duty noticed where Daniel was headed and rushed over to get the back door open for him, earning him a grateful smile from the archaeologist. Halfway between his post and the vehicle, the guard paused, his attention focused on something over Daniel's shoulder as he brought his weapon to bear. Turning, Daniel followed the other man's gaze and his eyes locked on an approaching SUV, identical to the ones they had arrived in. With no reason to believe General Hammond would have dispatched another group from the SGC to their location without notifying them, alarm bells started going off in both men's heads.

"Feretti!" Daniel called, getting the major's attention and nodding his head in the direction of the approaching vehicle. Upon seeing what had the archaeologist concerned, Feretti gave up on snapping at Pearson and inched his way towards Sam and Daniel, positioning himself between them and the vehicle. As he swung his P-90 up into firing position, he keyed the radio and issued a warning to the group still inside. "We've got company," Feretti said tersely into the unit. "Stand by."

The SUV came to a halt a few dozen feet from the cluster of SGC personnel and both doors on the passenger side of the vehicle swung open. Three pairs of boots hit the ground a few moments later, but their owners remained obscured behind the car doors. Waiting a few seconds, the SGC personnel gave the newcomers the chance to identify themselves; their patience wore off quickly.

"Okay, folks," Feretti yelled, flicking the safety off his P-90. "Show yourselves, nice and slow."

A head peeked around the front passenger door slowly, presumably following the command that had just been issued. The man's head swiveled around carefully, eyes roving over the open space between the building and the clump of trees to the right of the building.

"He was in on it!" Pearson shouted suddenly, his eyes going wide in recognition. At the same instant, the barrel of a gun appeared around the side of the front passenger door. "He's NI…"

Pearson never got the chance to finish his sentence. A bullet hit squarely between his eyes, the impact knocking his suddenly lifeless body backwards.

"Shots fired! We need back up _now_!" Feretti hollered into the radio.

As the first shot ripped through the air, Daniel had dropped to one knee and turned his back to the newly arrived SUV. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to keep the men firing on them in his line of sight, but doing so would leave Sam wide open and he wasn't willing to take that risk. He ducked his head and pulled her closer, leaning over her protectively. Looking up briefly, he decided that he could cross the few feet needed to take cover in front of the SUV he'd been headed for and shifted his weight, rising up on the balls of his feet in preparation. Waiting until Feretti let another burst of fire loose on their attackers, Daniel seized the opportunity and raced across the few feet needed to put a half-ton of solid metal between Sam and himself and the bullets. Around them, more weapons joined the fray until it seemed as if bullets were flying from all directions.

"What's going on?" Sam demanded, wide eyed and pale, her hands gripping his jacket tightly as she searched the area for any sign of their attackers.

"Pearson's dead," Daniel informed her tersely, raising his head for a fraction of a second, just long enough to scan the scene. "Our guys are all okay." The words 'so far' hung heavily in the air between them.

"Daniel, get her in the car now!" Feretti ordered, hollering to make himself heard over the battle that had unexpectedly broke out. "As soon as you're in, go!"

"But…" Daniel argued, his desire to see Sam safely returned to the SGC warring with his need to stay and help the people who had willingly risked their lives to rescue his missing teammate.

"Damn it, Daniel!" Feretti exploded, sounding frighteningly like Jack when he was angry. He had to reload his weapon and spared a quick glance backwards as he did so, inserting a new clip by muscle memory alone. "They're not even _trying_ to hit any of us; all their fire is concentrated on you and Sam. Once you're clear, maybe they'll stop shooting and start talking! Now go!"

Glancing up again, Daniel saw that Feretti was right: all of the NID's fire was being targeted on their position, there was no doubt about it. Two of the men who had been left topside to guard the entrance to the abandoned nuclear facility had been caught out in the open when the shooting had started. They had yet to make it behind cover, but the group of NID goons wasn't even trying to take them down. Now that Pearson was out of the picture, it seemed that they were too busy trying to take out Sam to bother even taking so much as a potshot at the rest of the group from the SGC.

"You'll have to open the door," Daniel instructed Sam, sparing a look over the hood of the SUV. "On three," he advised, taking a deep breath and shifting his weight so he would be ready to move when the time came. "One, two…"

A bullet struck the ground beside his feet, showering the two of them with a small explosion of dirt.

"Three!" Daniel shouted, lurching forward and scrambling around the side of the SUV, the weapons fire following his progress.

As soon as he had her within reach, Sam's arm shot out, her fingers wrapping around the door handle and flinging it open. Daniel dove inside, twisting his body to the left at the last minute so he didn't squish Sam underneath his weight. Sitting up, he leaned forward and pulled the door shut just in time, the thud of the closing door accompanied by the loud ping of a bullet deflecting off the solid metal.


	38. Chapter 38

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Wilkins watched with growing frustration as Booth cowered behind the bulletproof door, not even bothering to poke his head up to take a shot anymore now that the SGC was returning fire. Wilkins knew there was no way he'd be able to take out Booth _and_ the other two before someone turned their weapon on him, the positioning was just too awkward. If he was going to carry out his orders, he had to get Booth to move; an easy task when the other three were constantly looking to Wilkins for leadership.

"Booth, for God's sake!" he exclaimed angrily. "They're about to get Carter away! Break cover and try to get up on the other side of the SUV; they've left the driver's side wide open!"

Reluctantly, Booth did as he was told, dashing out from behind the door and backing carefully around the SUV, using the body of the vehicle for cover. Several dozen rounds pinged off the side, but none hit their mark. He cursed loudly as he dove across the last few feet, coming to a stop at the back of the vehicle.

Wilkins watched Booth's progress, waiting impatiently for the other man to creep around the driver's side of the vehicle on his way to the vehicle Sam had disappeared into. As he'd feared, however, Booth failed to reappear and after several long moments, Wilkins cursed under his breath. Sometimes he really wondered where his superiors had found the people he was expected to work with. Adjusting the rearview mirror to check on Booth, Wilkins wasn't surprised to see the other man stalling for time, ejecting the clip from his weapon and making a show of checking it thoroughly before re-inserting it.

Instantly recognizing the best chance he was likely to get, Wilkins flicked the safety off the gun lying across his lap. Twisting around in his seat, he turned to face the other two members of the surveillance team, who were currently taking cover behind the rear passenger door. Wilkins swung his weapon up, aimed quickly and squeezed off two shots before re-targeting and firing another two rounds into his former colleagues. Both men were dead before they even realized they had been betrayed, the weapons fire the SGC personnel were directing at them provided all the distraction Wilkins needed.

The first of his two tasks complete, Wilkins swung his door open and hopped out, using the door for cover as the others had done. He'd take out Booth and then bail. There was no way he'd be able to make a move on Sam now, but there was nothing he could do about that. His superiors would either have to accept it, or come up with a new plan to eliminate her.


	39. Chapter 39

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Feretti watched the driver edge around the mystery vehicle, waiting for an opportunity to take a shot. He finally spotted the opening he'd been looking for and let off a short burst of fire, cursing when all of his rounds missed their target. The man disappeared behind the SUV and, after glancing over his shoulder to see that Daniel had gotten Sam safely inside their own vehicle, Feretti decided to intercept the stranger before he could re-engage in the firefight. Keeping a careful eye on his surroundings, Feretti started edging his way to the left. If all went well, he figured be would be able to catch the two men taking cover behind the vehicle unawares and disarm them. If his luck really held out, he might even be able to sneak up behind their buddies and put an end to this nonsense before anyone else got hurt.

"Sir!" one of the sergeants who'd been left on guard duty shouted in surprise, causing the major's head to whip around frantically as he searched for a new threat. The sergeant thrust his chin towards the rear passenger side door, drawing Feretti's attention to the two men now slumped on the ground. "That wasn't any of us, sir!"

"What the hell?" Feretti murmured to himself. Studying the two men carefully, he watched for even the slightest hint of movement but after several long, tense seconds, the pool of blood spreading from beneath the pair confirmed that if they weren't already dead, it was only a matter of time until they were. "Hold your fire!" he ordered sharply.

The rattle of automatic weapons fire died away, leaving behind a silence that was almost oppressive. Still on guard, Feretti continued to scan his surroundings, making his way around to the recently opened driver's side door. Suddenly a shot rang out from behind the SUV, followed by the clatter of metal on metal as a weapon dropped to the ground, banging off the body of the vehicle on the way down.

"Freeze!" Feretti demanded, rounding the back of the SUV and training his weapon on the lone mystery man still standing.

Wilkins turned in surprise, bringing his weapon up and into a firing position. His eyes narrowed and his finger tightened almost imperceptibly on the trigger as he realized he'd been stupid enough to let himself be taken by surprise.

"Don't mess around," Feretti kept his voice calm and low, trying to reassure the other man that they could resolve the unfortunate situation they'd found themselves in reasonably. "Drop the weapon and let's talk."

"Walk away," Wilkins advised, his cold gaze locked on the other man, the barrel of his weapon never wavering.

"I can't do that," Feretti replied quietly, studying Wilkins' face closely. He was on alert for any sign that the other man was preparing to fire, either on Feretti or himself. This guy was now their only hope of tracing Sam's kidnapping back to the NID; they needed him alive.

"Neither can I," Wilkins sighed, his finger tensing. He'd been hoping to be able to carry out his orders without leaving any extra bodies behind, but he was more than capable of adapting his plans to reflect changing circumstances.

The bang that followed shattered the uneasy silence that had settled over the area.


	40. Chapter 40

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"What the _hell_ happened?" Jack demanded, taking just a fraction of a second to look over the two men sprawled on the ground in front of him before his eyes started sweeping the area for other hostiles. "And you're welcome."

"Took you long enough. And thanks," Feretti replied in kind, lowering his weapon and flicking the safety back on, kicking Wilkins' weapon away. "They showed up and started shooting. Pearson was taken out with the very first shot and then they focused all their fire on Daniel. He was carrying Sam, so I can only assume they were trying to take her down too."

"Where are they?" Panic lit his eyes as Jack's head snapped up to lock his gaze on Feretti. On his way up to the surface to provide back up, Jack had been peripherally aware that 'shots fired' on the surface implied the two members of his team currently _on_ the surface were taking fire. But taking fire and being singly targeted were two entirely different things, the former being a cause for concern while the latter made his blood run cold. Kidnapping hadn't been enough, now the NID had tried adding murder to the list of despicable things they had done to Sam. Daniel too, if he'd gotten in the way.

"In one of our SUVs. They're fine; they both made it inside in one piece, and it'd take a hell of a lot more than a P-90 round to get through the human-alien hybrid armor on one of those babies," Feretti replied. His not-so-subtle reminder about the alien technology incorporated into the vehicles went a long way in calming Jack, but they both knew he wouldn't be completely convinced his teammates were in one piece until he could see them for himself. Into his radio, Feretti advised, "We're clear; they've all been neutralized."

Dropping to his knees, Feretti pried Wilkins' hand away from his left thigh, inspecting the wound with some less than gentle probing. Jack kept his weapon trained outwards even as he cast a quick glance down at the man sprawled on the ground. He watched as Wilkins hissed in pain through gritted teeth, shifting his glare back and forth between Jack and Feretti. The third time the glare made it back to him, Jack couldn't keep silent any longer.

"Stop looking at me like that, it's a _flesh wound_," Jack drawled, no trace of sympathy in his voice. "All things considered, you're lucky I didn't take advantage of the very valid reason you were giving me to kill you."

"Pearson was an idiot," Wilkins ground out, wincing as Feretti applied a pressure bandage to the wound. "Unlike him, I won't be telling you much of anything, besides 'go to hell,' that is."

"We'll see," Jack replied, his lips twisting upwards in a tight smile.

"There is one _very _pissed off Jaffa around here somewhere," Feretti reminded. As blood quickly began soaking through the first dressing, he whipped another one out of his vest pocket and set about applying a second dressing to the wound.

Letting out another hiss of pain, Wilkins' mind raced, trying to come up with some way – any way – out of this mess he'd gotten himself into. He knew with absolute certainty he would never be able to escape; there was no way his left leg would be taking his weight any time soon. He also knew that once he was behind bars, his chances of ever walking free again were slim to none. If he did manage to negotiate some sort of deal – information on the NID in exchange for his freedom – it would only be a matter of time before the organization tracked him down and had him killed. Ultimately, if he let the SGC take him into custody, he had two choices: live out the rest of his life behind bars or trade his life for information in order to spend his final days as a free man. Neither option really appealed to Wilkins, which left him with choice number three.

His mind made up, he writhed on the ground, grimacing in pain. Both of his hands reached for his thigh, but Feretti expertly batted them away, not looking up from the task at hand. Seizing the opportunity, Wilkins delved a hand into the pocket just above his right knee. Sure fingers wrapped around the cool metal inside and he took a deep breath, knowing he would have to be fast in order to pull his plan off. Committing to choice number three, he wrenched his hand free of his pocket, the sudden movement catching Jack's eye.

"Gun!" he warned Feretti, swinging his own weapon around and down, lining up a shot on Wilkins.

Feretti scrambled back, fumbling to move his weapon into position and release the safety with his blood-slicked fingers. Wilkins didn't care about the two guns already aimed at him, turning the barrel of a third weapon on himself, his fingers releasing the safety with cool, steady determination.

"Drop it," Feretti instructed for the second time in less than five minutes. Realistically, he didn't expect to be any more successful this time than he had been the last, but still, he felt compelled to try.

"I warned you I wouldn't be telling you much of anything," Wilkins smirked, locking eyes with Jack a fraction of a second before pulling the trigger.

"Damn it!" Jack roared watching Wilkins' upper body topple backwards, sprawling awkwardly on the ground.

"I didn't check him for other weapons," Feretti realized, angry with himself for making such a stupid mistake.

"If he really wanted to kill himself, he wouldn't have needed a gun to do it," Jack said, trying to reign in his temper. He couldn't say he was sorry the guy was dead, but he regretted that the man had died before they'd managed to get any information out of him. Unless Sam had seen someone else or heard another name, their last chance to tie her kidnapping to the NID had just disappeared.

"Jack?" Dixon's voice demanded over the radio, distracting both men from their thoughts. "We just heard another shot. What's going on?"

"The guy we'd managed to take alive shot himself," Jack replied, frustration lacing his words. "We're secure."

"Roger that," came the reply, knowing better than to push for additional information right now.

"It was just the four of them?" Jack asked Feretti, his eyes doing another sweep of the area, just to be sure.

"Yeah," Feretti assured, copying Jack and taking a good look around to make sure there were no other nasty surprises waiting for them. "One thing is bothering me though."

"Just one?" Jack asked skeptically. There were a whole lot of things bothering _him_ right now.

"Our friend here killed all three of his buddies," Feretti replied, bending down to disarm the two dead men. If any more uninvited guests showed up, he wanted to know exactly where each and every weapon in the area was; he'd be damned if he made the same rookie mistake twice in one day. "Pearson said they were in on it, at least, the guy who killed him was."

"An NID sponsored hit," Jack agreed. "They knew Pearson had turned and didn't want him talking, so first they took him out and then they got rid of the people he could have pointed us to. I guess they were hoping he hadn't started spilling any big secrets just yet."

"That's my guess, too," Feretti agreed, straightening up with his armload of weapons. "Have you finished clearing the building?"

"Not even close," the older man grimaced, knowing that it would be a long and tedious task. "We've got fifteen levels to go; it's going to take a while."

"Why don't you and Teal'c head back to the SGC with Daniel and Sam? We'll finish up here."

"You sure?" Jack asked, even though what he wanted more than anything was to agree, freeing himself from all responsibility over the scene so he could check on his two favorite scientists.

"Go!" Feretti assured with a knowing smile, watching as his friend struggled with the mutually exclusive desires to see that his team was taken care of and to personally apprehend every single person involved in Sam's kidnapping.

"Thank you," Jack said gratefully, slapping the other man on the back. "For everything. I owe you big time."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Feretti grumbled, rolling his eyes. "At this point, you owe me so many favors that I could live to be a thousand and still not cash in on them all."

Jack didn't hear a word of it, already jogging over to the vehicle in question.


	41. Chapter 41

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"Doctor Jackson!" The young man who had signaled him to hold off on pealing out of there like a madman just a few minutes ago now had the passenger door wide open. Poking his head inside the vehicle, he provided Daniel with a slightly breathless update on the situation. "Major Feretti gave the all clear about two minutes ago and Colonel O'Neill just confirmed the area is secure."

"Daniel Jackson! Major Carter!" Teal'c's deep voice suddenly boomed across the driveway. Sparing a quick glance in the side mirror on the passenger side, Daniel quickly spotted their friend hurrying towards them.

"Thanks, sergeant, I was feeling a little out of the loop," Daniel replied. He smiled ruefully at the remains of his radio; the mangled remnants evidence of just how close one of the NID's bullets had come to hitting its mark.

Climbing out of the driver's seat, Daniel scrambled back to where Sam was seated, still wrapped up in the sleeping bag. Kneeling beside her was hard in the cramped space, but he managed it with some determination and an impressive display of flexibility. He knew he would probably regret twisting himself into such a strange position before long – his back was already twinging in an attempt to let him know this was a bad idea – but at the moment, he could care less.

"Teal'c's on his way and I'm sure Jack's not far behind," Daniel murmured, cupping her feverish face in his relatively cooler hands. "Are you going to be okay if we wait for them?"

Before she could respond, a shadow fell over them. Craning his neck – another contortion he was sure he'd be paying for later on – Daniel turned his head to see Teal'c's familiar bulk filling the rear passenger door. Shifting slightly, Daniel maneuvered himself out of the way, simultaneously managing to find a slightly more comfortable position and give his friend a clear view of Sam.

"Are you both unharmed?" Teal'c inquired calmly, even as his warm brown eyes raked over them both frantically, searching for any sign of injury.

"We're okay," Daniel assured, offering the other man a tight smile.

Teal'c took a few more seconds to look them both over before turning his full attention on Sam. "I am pleased to see you again, Major Carter," he greeted warmly, gripping her shoulder. "We have been most concerned for your well-being and our hearts are lighter with the knowledge that you are now safe."

"Thank you," she smiled tiredly, one hand sneaking out of the warm cocoon of her sleeping bag to squeeze the hand resting on her shoulder. "It's good to see you too."

Teal'c bowed his head in acknowledgement of her words, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "We should prepare to depart immediately. O'Neill will be joining us…"

The rear door on the driver's side flew open, dousing them all with bright sunlight that left them blinking rapidly to clear spots from their vision. Once their eyes adjusted, they could make out the silhouette of a man looming over them.

"Is everyone okay, kids?" Jack's familiar voice demanded anxiously.

"We are all unharmed," Teal'c assured. He took a final look at Sam before pulling back and shutting the door firmly. A few long strides brought him around the front of the vehicle, and moments later he was climbing in to the driver's seat and starting the engine. As soon as he was seated, one large hand reached out and adjusted the rearview mirror, not to improve his view out the back window, but to give him a clear view of Sam.

"Hey, Carter," Jack greeted, climbing in beside her while Daniel pulled himself up off the floor and settled on her right side. "Long time, no see," he added, squirming. It took some doing to fit three adults on the bench seat, but Jack and Daniel managed to find space, wriggling around until Sam was squished snugly between them.

"Yes, sir," she smiled tiredly. As Teal'c began a rather fast three-point turn, she leaned forward slightly, allowing Daniel to slip an arm behind her shoulders for extra balance.

"How're you doing?" Jack asked gently, laying a testing hand on her forehead. It wasn't really necessary, given that he could feel the fevered heat rolling off her, but right now, he would use any excuse he could think of to touch her. "Geez, Carter, are you ever hot!"

"That's very kind of you, sir," she smirked, her voice hoarse and raspy. "But I really don't think I'm looking my best at the moment."

"Smart ass," Jack grumbled good-naturedly while Daniel chuckled and Teal'c quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "Frasier's going to have a field day with you."

"Speaking of which," Daniel jumped in, sharing a look with Teal'c in the rearview mirror. "Remember all those times we've tried to convince you that driving a car and flying a death glider should be very, very different?"

"Indeed, I do, Daniel Jackson," he replied, carefully navigating around the last vehicle between them and the road leading back to the SGC.

"Well, just this once, it would be okay if you completely disregarded that advice," Jack instructed, careful to make it clear that this was a one-time thing. As he spoke, he rested a cool hand on the base of Sam's neck, dragging a contented sigh from her lips.

The full blown grin that lit Teal'c's face should have been warning enough, but the three people huddled together on the backseat were still taken by surprise when the rapid acceleration of the vehicle pushed them all back into the seat.

**A/N: **I've got an out-of-town family shindig tomorrow, but I'll try my best to get something posted at some point during the day. A huge thank you to everyone still reading (and reviewing!) – you guys are fantastic! : )


	42. Chapter 42

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

The rear door on the driver's side of the SUV was thrown open before the vehicle had even come to a complete stop, revealing an anxious Janet and several members of her staff standing by with a gurney. Once Teal'c shifted the vehicle into park, Jack hopped out, sparing only the briefest of glances at the medical team. Turning his attention to the interior of the vehicle, Jack waited patiently for Sam to scoot to the edge of the bench seat they had shared with Daniel on the trip back to the base. When she was within easy reach, Jack slipped an arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, scooping her out of the seat and carrying her the few steps to the waiting gurney. While he was busy with his armful of blonde Air Force major, Daniel and Teal'c exited the SUV and positioned themselves among the medical staff, trying to stay out of the way while still being near Sam.

"Hey," Janet greeted. With a cool hand, she reached out to brush her friend's sweat dampened hair off her forehead. "It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back," Sam returned, flashing the other woman a tired smile.

"Okay," Janet declared, turning her attention to her staff and switching into doctor mode. "Let's start an IV right away; if we can get her re-hydrated, some of our other concerns might resolve themselves. Let's move," she ordered.

The medical staff leapt into action, scurrying around to carry out Janet's instructions. One of the nurses quickly found a vein and slipped a needle into it before connecting the line leading to the bag of fluids another nurse was holding at the ready. As soon as the IV was attached, several hands landed on the gurney, pushing it into action and wheeling Sam past the fist security checkpoint. Janet hung back a few feet, allowing her staff a bit of a head start and stealing a few seconds to watch the three remaining members of SG-1 closely. They all looked to be at a loss now that they had their missing teammate back, unsure of what they should be doing next.

"If you promise to stay out of the way, then just this once you can wait in the infirmary while we check Sam out and get her settled," Janet informed them, using her firmest no nonsense doctor voice. She knew that bending her rules in this instance would set a dangerous precedent – one they would definitely use against her the next time one of them was injured or sick – but in light of the three days the men standing before her had just had, Janet knew it would drive them all absolutely crazy to have Sam out of their sight for any length of time. "Just this once," Janet repeated pointedly, crossing her arms to show that she meant business.

Teal'c and Daniel were both off like shots, following the rapidly disappearing gurney deeper into the mountain. When they realized Jack wasn't with them, both turned and regarded their friend curiously. Janet also looked at him with surprise; if nothing else, she'd expected Jack to be leading the gurney chase, not simply standing around with his hands in his pockets, looking lost in thought.

"Jack?" Daniel called, raising his eyebrows expectantly. "Are you coming?"

"You guys go ahead," he advised, shaking his head as if to clear away whatever thoughts had been distracting him. "I'll sign the four of us in and meet up with you in a few minutes."

Hiding her shock, Janet decided it would be best to let his teammates deal with the situation, whatever it was. Sharing a pointed look with Teal'c, she turned on her heel and hurried to catch up with her staff, leaving the men of SG-1 by themselves, save for the security guards standing a few feet away.

"Are you well, O'Neill?" Teal'c pressed once Janet had left. He was torn between ascertaining the well being of the man before him and that of the woman whom he'd spent the last three days worrying about non-stop, but the distant look in Jack's eyes made the decision easy; Sam would be all right without them for a few minutes.

"I'm fine," Jack assured, giving both of his friends a smile that ended up looking more like a grimace than anything. "Really. You guys go catch up with Carter and make sure Simmons doesn't get anywhere near her. I'll be right behind you."

Accustomed as they were to following Jack's orders, Daniel and Teal'c did as they were told, turning and making their way through the first security checkpoint at a brisk jog. They were both grateful that General Hammond had had the foresight to inform security that they were coming and had ordered the guards to wave all four members of SG-1 through without observing any of the usual sign-in procedures.

Once the others were out of sight, Jack pulled his hands out of his pockets, along with the phone he'd been toying with for the last few minutes. He stared at it thoughtfully for a few moments, weighing his options carefully. Making up his mind, he flipped open the phone and dialed the number he'd spent five minutes memorizing earlier that afternoon. While he waited for an answer, he forced himself to take a deep, slow breath, finally allowing his body to completely relax for the first time in days.


	43. Chapter 43

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

He jumped when the phone rang, earning him strange looks from both of his children. His wife gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, silently urging him to get to his feet and answer it. Picking his way carefully over the Lego blocks strewn across the living room floor, he managed to make it to the phone on the third ring. Even as he lifted the receiver out of the cradle, his eyes darted back to his wife, seeking out the quiet confidence shining from her eyes.

"Hello?" he greeted, the apprehension in his voice clear even to him. Logically, he knew anyone could be calling, but something inside him screamed that this was the call he'd been waiting on tenterhooks for.

"Is this Mark?" an unfamiliar voice inquired uncertainly.

"Yes," he replied cautiously. "Who is this?"

"My name's Jack O'Neill, I work with Car… With your sister," the caller replied.

"Is there any news?" Mark asked, desperately. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it would burst right out of his chest; he had no patience for pleasantries at the moment.

"We've found her," Jack assured. "I can't give you specifics, but when we got to her, she was awake and talking to us. The pneumonia's gotten worse, but…"

"Is she okay? Aside from the pneumonia, I mean?" Mark demanded anxiously. He gave his wife a quick nod, letting her know that Sam had been found. She sent him a genuine smile in return.

"She swears the people who had her didn't hurt her," Jack reassured. "And she looked okay to me, all things considered."

"Well what did the doctor say? Or did you even take her to one?" he demanded, feeling his patience waning. Suddenly he found himself questioning the wisdom of trusting Sam's teammates. It sounded as though his sister had been kidnapped, found several days later and sent home with a slap on the back, nothing more. "God, you people are…" Mark began, feeling his blood start to boil.

"Woah!" Jack interrupted, effectively cutting off Mark's tirade. "'_Us people_' only learned where she was an hour and a half ago. In that time, we've interrogated the guy who kidnapped her, driven out to where she was being held, found Carter, gotten into a firefight, and driven back to the base. So before you start ranting and raving about 'us people', could you shut up long enough for me to tell you that she's in with our base doctor right now, and the only reason I'm calling before we have a real update on her condition is because I didn't think it was fair to leave you worrying even one second longer than we absolutely had to?"

He hadn't intended to lose his temper, but once he'd started, Jack had discovered it was virtually impossible to stop. He'd heard all about Mark's military bashing tirades from both Sam and Jacob and he was in no mood to hear one right now.

For his part, Mark had been shocked into silence. He'd heard enough about Jack to know the man had quite the temper, but Mark had never in a million years expected to be in a situation where he would be on the receiving end of it.

"Sorry," Jack sighed after a few moments of awkward silence, and suddenly the furious man on the other end of the line was replaced by one who sounded completely worn out. "It's been a long couple of days."

"No, it's okay," Mark assured, running a hand through his short hair as some of his own anger dissipated. "I should have given you a chance to finish before I jumped down your throat. You said she was in with a doctor now?"

"Yeah," Jack replied. "Janet Frasier. I'm sure Car… Sam's mentioned her before; they're close."

"Is she good?"

"The very best," Jack swore, doing his best to alleviate the other man's fears. "She's in good hands, Mark. Pneumonia is nothing compared to the stuff Frasier deals with on a day-to-day basis."

"Can I talk to Sam?" Mark asked, knowing he wouldn't be completely reassured until he could speak with his sister.

"Not right now, sorry," Jack answered, sounding like he sincerely regretted not being able to pass the phone over right away. "She literally just went to get checked out two minutes ago. They probably haven't even made it to the infirmary yet."

"Oh," Mark said quietly, his disappointment obvious.

"As soon as Frasier clears her, I'll make sure Cart… Sam gives you a call," Jack promised, still stumbling over his 2IC's first name. "But she probably won't be up to talking for very long."

"That's okay, I just… I need to hear her voice, you know?" he explained awkwardly.

"I know," the other man agreed, and Mark truly believed that he did. "Look, I should go…"

"Right," Mark conceded, leaning against the wall as the lingering tension drained from his body, leaving him feeling completely spent. "Well, thanks for calling."

"Sure," Jack agreed awkwardly.

Mark lapsed into silence, listening to another weary sigh on the other end of the phone. Despite the mostly calm, reassuring tone of the call, it was clear that Jack was exhausted and yet still, he was quite obviously anxious to get back to Sam. Which raised an interesting question, although Mark wasn't sure whether or not he should give voice to it. He warred with himself for a moment before making up his mind.

"Colonel O'Neill?"

"Call me Jack," the other man replied wryly. "_Please_. I don't need another Carter 'colonel'- and 'sir'-ing me every time I turn around."

"Why did you call me?" Mark asked, his confusion clear. "I mean, I'm sure you'd rather be with Sam, and George usually…"

"It was my idea not to call you when we first discovered she was missing," Jack confessed guardedly, clearly expecting to have his head bitten off. When it became clear that Mark was trying very hard to hold his tongue and give Jack a chance to explain himself, he continued, "I convinced Hammond that telling you she was gone without being able to tell you any of the details wouldn't do anybody any good, and that's why he waited so long to contact you. I know it doesn't make up for it, but I didn't think you should have to wait to hear that we'd found her."

"Thank you," Mark repeated, understanding dawning. He was still angry that he'd been kept in the dark, but he realized now, after hearing the genuine concern for Sam's well being in her CO's voice, that there had been no ill intent behind the decision to delay notifying him about the kidnapping. In reality, they'd been trying to save him from the horrible, helpless feeling he'd been struggling with for the last few hours.

"There are a lot of people here who care about her; we all did our part," Jack said flippantly, deflecting the other man's gratitude. "Carter will call you in a while." And with that, the call was disconnected.

Hanging up on his end, Mark smiled to himself. It was a relief knowing that Sam had been found, but the news was made even better by the knowledge that she was safely tucked away behind a whole bunch of base security guards, all armed to the teeth. Turning, he met his wife's eyes again and returned the bright smile she gave him.

"You know," he said as he picked his way across the Lego minefield once more, scooping his son up in his arms along the way. "One of these days we should really get out to Colorado Springs and meet those people. I've gotta owe Sam's teammates a couple _kegs_ of beer by now."


	44. Chapter 44

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"I told you to call when you had her!" Kinsey growled into the phone by way of greeting.

"Circumstances changed," Simmons snapped back, making his way up the road leading to Cheyenne Mountain. "The SGC beat me to her and I had to improvise."

"I hope you covered all our bases."

"The entire surveillance team has been eliminated," Simmons advised. "The SGC got Carter out, but the only people she can identify aren't in a position to give up any information."

"Do we know what Pearson told them?" the senator asked, a trace of concern weaving its way through his words. "Or what he told Carter?

"Not yet, but I'm on my way to meet with Hammond and O'Neill now, so I suppose we'll find out soon enough," Simmons groused. He hated gambling his own future on Pearson's logical reasoning skills, but with all the time he'd spent around the SGC in recent days, it would certainly raise suspicions if he disappeared now. Plus, if he were the first one involved in this disastrous operation to be caught, he'd be the first one to be offered a deal.

"If you can, call and let me know how things go," Kinsey instructed before hanging up.

Tucking his phone into his suit pocket, Simmons made his way through the initial security checkpoints before parking the SUV and navigating the last few checkpoints on foot. When the final guard had waved him through, he made straight for the elevator and jammed the button that would take him to the level the briefing room was located on. Along the way, he took stock of the looks he was receiving from passing SGC personnel; contemptuous as usual, but none of the hatred he'd expect if word had spread that he'd orchestrated Sam's kidnapping.

Approaching the briefing room, he heard Hammond's familiar Texas drawl spilling out into the hallway. It was time to test his acting skills; Simmons adopted his most compassionate expression and allowed himself the luxury of a single deep breath before he made his entrance.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he announced, striding in as though he belonged. "I came as soon as I got the message. How is Major Carter?"

"Doctor Frasier was just about to fill us all in on the major's condition," Hammond informed him, waving the latecomer into a chair on the right-hand side of the table, across from Jack, Teal'c and Janet.

"Where's Doctor Jackson?" Simmons asked, noting the other man's absence.

"Daniel Jackson is in the infirmary with Major Carter," Teal'c informed him, glowering.

"Forgive me, but I was under the impression that all personnel involved in an operation were expected to participate in debriefings," Simmons replied, feigning surprise that the SGC would be so lax when it came to following proper procedures and protocol.

"This isn't a debriefing; that will come later, once we've cleared the site where Major Carter was being held. For the moment, we're just catching one another up on the latest developments," Hammond replied shortly, clearly not appreciating Simmons' attempts to wrest control of the meeting away from him. "Doctor?" Hammond nodded, urging Janet to move on with her update.

"Thank you, sir," Janet smiled tightly, consulting her notes before beginning. "Major Carter's pneumonia worsened after being left untreated, and the infection was exacerbated by the cool, damp conditions she was held in. I've started her on amoxicillin to help fight off the infection and for now, we've got her on oxygen to help her breathe a little easier. She's also running a high fever, but we've already managed to lower it by two degrees and now that she's receiving treatment, I think we should be able to keep it under control."

"What about complications?" Jack asked, thinking back to the talk he'd had with Daniel the other night.

"None so far," Janet assured, offering him a genuine smile. "And I don't expect any to arise."

"What else?" Hammond asked, allowing himself to relax slightly upon hearing the good news.

"She's dehydrated, but we've got her on an IV to fix that. Major Carter also has traces of sodium pentothal – more commonly known as 'truth serum' – in her system; she says she was drugged before every interrogation session," Janet concluded, taking a deep breath and letting her eyes rove over Jack, Teal'c and Hammond before summing up her findings. "Overall, she's had a rough few days, but she's going to be fine."

"Thank you, Doctor Frasier," Teal'c bowed his head in gratitude.

"I understand that someone came forward claiming responsibility for the kidnapping and that's how you found her?" Simmons inquired, trying to keep his tone disinterested even though his heart was racing and his palms were sweating. This was the moment of truth; he knew the men of SG-1 suspected his involvement, but so long as they couldn't prove anything, he was home free.

"Yeah," Jack snarked, glaring across the table. "_Someone_ claiming to work for the NID."

"I've told you several times, Colonel," Simmons retorted impatiently. "The NID had nothing to do with this, but if you'd like, I can meet with this person to confirm that they are in no way affiliated with the organization."

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Hammond replied, blue eyes narrowing at the man on his right. "He's dead."

"Along with everyone else involved in Carter's kidnapping," Jack added waspishly.

"Did any of them tell you anything useful before they died? Or say anything to Major Carter?" Simmons pressed, struggling to come across as indifferent when all he really wanted to know was whether or not he should be expecting to wind up in handcuffs before the day was over.

"Unfortunately, they did not," Teal'c replied.

The words possessed an almost magical quality; an instant after they were spoken, Simmons felt all of the worry and fear that had been twisting in his gut vanish. A wave of relief washed over him and he felt almost giddy in its wake, wanting nothing more than to celebrate the fact that he would escape at least the legal fallout from this disastrous operation. Although he knew better than to let his feelings show and maintained his cool, detached demeanor, Simmons feared that his relief was palpable.

With effort, he managed to feign little more than professional interest when he asked, "So there's nothing else we can do at this point?"

"Not at this point, no," Jack grudgingly agreed, drumming his fingers on the tabletop while he glared at the retired colonel.

"Well then, I guess there's no reason for me to remain here," Simmons stated, getting to his feet without waiting for Hammond to dismiss him. "Give Major Carter my best," he added, turning and leaving the room casually.

No words of protest followed him out of the briefing room, and for a few feet, Simmons allowed himself to believe that he might actually be able to make a clean getaway. However, that hope disappeared before he'd even managed to round the first corner. The sound of boots pounding on the concrete floor reached his ears just shy of the first fork in the corridor, and against his better judgment, Simmons turned to see who was chasing him down. He was unsurprised when his eyes landed on Jack, having never really believed the other man would be content to let him have the final word.

"Is there something you wanted, Colonel?"

"You're damn right there is," Jack snarled, his eyes cold and hard. "You stay the hell away from my team and everyone else at the SGC. The next time _anyone_ from the NID screws around with _any_ of our people, I'm tracking you down; I don't _care_ whether or not you're involved. And just so we're clear, I swear to you that when the time comes, I'll be shooting first and asking questions later."

"I'd watch who you threaten, Colonel," Simmons retorted coolly, lowering his voice to ensure that an approaching gaggle of scientists wouldn't overhear him. "You're _way_ out of your league."

"Stay away from my team," Jack repeated, bristling with anger. With one final glare at Simmons, he turned and stormed back into the briefing room.

Simmons watched the other man's retreating form triumphantly, though none of his satisfaction with how things had worked out was outwardly obvious. He managed to make it the rest of the way to the elevator without attracting much attention, his presence earning nothing more than the odd scowl here and there from passing personnel. He was pleasantly surprised when the car arrived without any other occupants, although Simmons suspected someone in the security office had put out an alert that he was on base, advising everyone to keep out of the corridors as much as possible, lest they risk encountering him while wandering the halls.

As soon as the doors slid shut and the elevator began it's shuddering ascent, Simmons slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed Kinsey's number from memory, going through the usual song and dance with the other man's secretary before he was patched through to the senator. As soon as Kinsey picked up on the other end, Simmons relayed his good news.

"I'm heading home, there's nothing else for me to do here."


	45. Chapter 45

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Jack watched with amusement as Daniel stumbled off to his quarters, clearly still half-asleep. He waited until his archaeologist had disappeared around the corner before turning his attention back to his equally sleepy astrophysicist, musing that his two favorite scientists spent entirely too much time in the infirmary.

Stuffing his hands deep in his pockets, Jack rocked back on his heels, studying his 2IC closely as she rubbed her tired eyes. "Did you have a good nap?"

"Yes, sir," Sam replied, lifting the oxygen mask from her face in spite of the disapproving look he gave her. "I'm not sure Daniel enjoyed it though," she added with a wry smile.

When General Hammond had summoned her teammates to the briefing room, Sam had insisted that she would be all right alone for a while – she had big plans for the rest of the day, including sleep, sleep and more sleep – but they had refused to leave her by herself. In the end, they had convinced General Hammond to let one of them stay in the infirmary with Sam and after drawing straws, Daniel had come out the winner. Sam was skeptical that it was much of a victory, though; she'd fallen asleep within minutes of Jack and Teal'c leaving and when Janet had awakened her a few hours later, Daniel had been sprawled awkwardly in a hard plastic chair, dead to the world.

"Trust me, Carter," Jack smiled knowingly. "Up until the point when he passed out, Daniel was perfectly happy just to sit and watch you sleep."

"I know," she agreed, shifting slightly in bed as she tried to get more comfortable. "If it were anybody else, it would be rather creepy."

"Even if it were me?" Jack asked feigning hurt feelings and clasping a hand over his wounded heart.

"Of course not, sir," Sam assured indulgently. "You're special. Teal'c too."

"Listen," Jack said seriously, shifting gears and getting down to business. He hated having to keep pestering her for information, but at the moment, she was their only chance of catching the people who had kidnapped her. "I know I've asked you this already, but have you remembered anything else about the guys who grabbed you? Or anything they said that could tie them to the NID?"

"Sorry, sir," Sam shook her head remorsefully. "The only two I ever saw were Pearson and the man who killed him…"

"Captain Eric Booth, army," Jack supplied. She'd been asleep when they had identified the four dead men who'd appeared seemingly out of nowhere, so Jack knew she was playing a bit of catch-up. He had no intention of overloading her with every single detail they'd learned, instead sharing only what was necessary to fill in some of the blanks for her.

"He popped his head in after Pearson disappeared and confirmed that they were NID, but without either one of them alive…"

"… There's no way to find out who exactly ordered the kidnapping," Jack finished for her. "We've been through all five of their personnel files; there are no definite ties to the NID, although each of them has at least one possible connection. Unfortunately, unless we can prove someone inside the NID ordered them to snatch you, we can't prove that they weren't just a couple of yahoos acting on their own initiative."

They both lapsed into silence then, each lost in thought as they pondered the unfortunate end to the rescue operation. For his part, although Jack wasn't happy that the five young men who'd played a role in kidnapping his 2IC were dead, he couldn't really say he was sorry about it either. The loss of life was regrettable, but there was also a grim sense of satisfaction, knowing that the people in question would never be able to hurt a member of his team ever again. Meanwhile, Sam was torn between anger and gratitude towards Trevor Pearson; he had been the one to kidnap her, but he'd also been the one to lead her teammates to her. In a way that left her feeling a bit disgusted with herself, Sam was relieved she would never have to face Pearson and therefore never have to directly confront the conflicting emotions his actions had raised.

"I'm sorry, sir," Sam breathed quietly, long minutes later.

"What for?" Jack replied, quirking his eyebrow in surprise. As far as he could recall, she had absolutely nothing to be apologizing for. Not that that had ever stopped her before, mind you.

"I never should have opened the door," she replied, frustration clear in her voice. "The NID set me up and I walked right into it."

"Carter, none of this was your fault," he argued quietly. "I never should have left you alone. And Frasier and I shouldn't have changed the plan without telling you. I don't know what we… What _I_ was thinking."

"I think it's pretty obvious that you were thinking I was too smart to open my door to a complete stranger in light of what happened last August," she wheezed dryly before lapsing into a coughing fit.

"Put that back on," Jack ordered softly. Sitting on the side of her infirmary bed, he gently wrestled the oxygen mask out of her reluctant fingers. Once he'd worked the mask free of her grip, he grasped her wrist and carefully eased her hand away from her mouth before putting the mask back in place. She squirmed, trying to evade him and he heaved an exasperated sigh, feeling more like he was babysitting a toddler than paying a visit to his 2IC. "Carter, put the damn mask back on. That's an order," he said sternly.

With a dramatic eye roll, she stopped fighting him. Sam tried to keep still so he could slip the elastics intended to hold the mask in place back around her head, but the coughing fit left her jerking on the bed despite her best efforts to remain still. Once the mask was back in place, Jack dropped a hand to her shoulder, squeezing gently while he waited for the fit to end. When she finally settled down, she collapsed back against the bed in an exhausted heap, lungs heaving painfully from the exertion.

"Take a couple of deep breaths," Jack reminded as she gasped for air. "Do you want me to go get Frasier?"

Sam shook her head firmly and focused on catching her breath. When the desperate burn in her lungs had disappeared, she asked the question that had been weighing on her mind since first waking up.

"What happens now?"

"Now, we focus on getting you better."

"I meant…"

"I know," Jack interrupted, running a hand through his hair. "I've been in fighting with Hammond for over an hour, but unfortunately, there's nothing we _can_ do. Without hard evidence tying the NID to what happened, we can't hold them responsible."

"So I just go back to the house they kidnapped me from and hope they don't try it again." There was no bitterness or anger in her voice, just acceptance that, at least in this instance, the NID had managed to come out on top. For the moment, their hands were tied.

"Carter, if I had it my way, at this very moment Teal'c would be moving into your spare bedroom and Daniel and I would be out searching for the biggest, meanest guard dog we could find," Jack sighed. "But even if we could convince you to go for it, I'm not sure it would make a difference."

"If the NID wants to get their hands on me, they'll find a way, no matter what," Sam guessed, trying to follow his line of thought. Her words were slightly muffled by the mask, but she enunciated clearly in an effort to make it as easy as possible for Jack to understand her. "We established regular check-ins and installed a state of the art security system, which made it harder for them to get to me, but in the end, all they had to do was be patient and wait for an opportunity to present itself."

"Which brings us to an important point," Jack agreed. "Once you're out of here, we're doing a check-in every morning and every night, each and every day that we're not on base. Maybe one early in the afternoon, too... Ah, no arguments!" he added, waggling his index finger at her when she looked ready to protest. "We got damn lucky Carter. Pearson's change of heart was a fluke and it won't happen again; the NID will learn from their mistakes and if they try this again in the future, we aren't going to find you until they want us to."

"Do you really think they'll try again?" Sam asked seriously, turning wide blue eyes on him.

He studied her closely while he considered his answer. There was only the briefest flicker of concern that danced across her features, rapidly giving way to calm. He held no illusions that she was unbothered by what had happened and the possibility that it might happen again one day. Instead, she was trying to confront her fears so she could move past them. Although he certainly didn't like that she had to, he was willing to do his part to help.

"I don't know," Jack finally decided. He could never lie when she looked at him so seriously, trusting him to be honest with her. Not even when it was a little white lie intended to put her mind at ease. "They might."

"Yeah," Sam said quietly, casting her eyes down to the thick fleece blanket covering her. "That's what I thought."

"Hey," Jack replied, nudging her thigh with his knee, the action serving to draw her eyes back up to his own. "We're going to do everything we can to keep you safe. And if they _do_ try again, you know there's nowhere on this or any other planet we wouldn't search," he reminded.

"Yeah, I know," she smiled warmly, confident that her teammates would quite literally go anywhere if they thought it would help them find her.

Jack held her gaze for a few long moments, reassuring himself yet again that she was really here, back at the SGC, safe and more or less sound. She had at least a few infirmary-bound days ahead of her while Janet monitored her condition and tried to get her pneumonia under control, but Sam would be back at home in no time, slowly going stir crazy until she was declared fit to return to light duty.

"Why don't you go back to sleep for a bit?" Jack suggested quietly, watching her bite back a yawn.

"With all due respect, sir, I think we could both do with some sleep. You look exhausted," she informed him earnestly.

Jack knew she was right. He'd hardly recognized himself when he'd caught a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror on the way back to the base a few hours ago; his features appearing drastically altered thanks to the dark circles under his eyes that spoke of too many sleepless nights in a row. But he, Daniel and Teal'c had agreed to take turns sitting with Sam – they'd claimed it was just in case the NID had any other tricks up their sleeves, but really, they'd just wanted an excuse to stay nearby that Janet would be hard-pressed to argue against – and he'd be damned if he left her alone again any time soon.

"Teal'c is coming down in a few hours; I'll sit with you until then. I can doze in the chair," he said dismissively, waving his hands through the air as if batting the suggestion away.

"Really, sir, I'll be fine. And sleeping in these chairs always hurts your back," Sam argued knowingly.

"Carter, I'm not going anywhere. Now close your eyes and go to sleep," he commanded. He softened his words by brushing a gentle hand through her hair, pushing the blonde strands back from her still feverish forehead.

"You, Daniel and Teal'c aren't planning on letting me out of your sight much in the next few weeks, are you?" she asked wryly, even as she snuggled further under the blankets and squirmed a bit, trying to find a comfortable position.

"In the next few weeks? Absolutely not. But if you're lucky, we might be willing to let you have a girls' night with Doc and Cassie sometime about a decade from now," Jack replied, only half-joking.

"Thank you, sir," Sam breathed quietly, even as her eyelids began drooping. Although she'd only been awake for a short while, it had been too long for her exhausted body, now demanding that she give in to the pull of sleep.

"Always," he replied, shifting off the bed and dropping gracelessly into the hard, plastic infirmary chair Daniel had been napping in earlier.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he settled in for the next few hours, watching Sam's features slowly relax. Although her breathing sounded different than it usually did off-world, Jack still recognized the moment when she crossed over from falling asleep to actually _being_ asleep, and it brought a smile to his face. All three of his kids were tucked away in bed, getting some much needed sleep after a grueling few days; he could finally give in to his own body's need for rest. Stretching his legs out in front of him, he closed his eyes and let the comforting sound of his teammate's breathing lull him to sleep.


	46. Chapter 46

**A/N: **Credit for the next two chapters goes to Dargos, who put the idea in my head. I found a way to work it into the story without messing up my plot line or futzing with events in later SG-1 episodes (which was my goal throughout this whole story, in case you were wondering), and so here we are with two brand spanking new chapters that I never expected to write! And now, on with the show… Enjoy! : )

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

Flipping through one of the many files that had piled up on his desk in the last few days, he reached for his coffee absent-mindedly. Just as his fingers closed around the mug's ceramic handle, a flash of bright white light consumed his office.

His head snapped up, trying to pinpoint the source of the blinding distraction, surprise-widened eyes darting around as he took in his surroundings. In the same instant that he realized he was no longer sitting in his office, he noticed he was falling backwards, his chair having mysteriously disappeared. He tried to stand and regain his balance, but it was too little too late. He ended up sprawled in a graceless heap on the cool metal floor with lukewarm coffee spilt all over him and, more distressingly, his silk designer tie.

"Greetings," a strange sounding voice said calmly.

Tilting his head back just slightly gave the surprised man on the floor a clear view of who was responsible for his abrupt removal from his office.

"Holy…" he began, sitting upright and sliding across the floor, trying to put some distance between him and the short little… thing looming over him. He backed up until he felt the sleek bulkhead of the ship pressing against his shoulders. He'd run out of room to move and couldn't spot a conveniently open door anywhere; he was trapped.

"I am Supreme Commander Thor of the Asgard," the grey alien informed him calmly. "You have nothing to fear. I do not intend to harm you at the moment."

"I think there's been some sort of mistake," he tried to negotiate, noting how the alien tilted his head and blinked back at him in confusion.

"You are Frank Simmons?"

"Yes! And I demand…"

"Then there has been no mistake," Thor interrupted. "On behalf of the Asgard High Council, I am here to convey our displeasure with the organization you refer to as 'NID' and their participation in the recent abduction of Major Carter."

"Did O'Neill put you up to this?" Simmons demanded, slowly getting over the shock of finding himself transported up to an alien spaceship. "I've already made it quite clear to him on more than one occasion that the NID was not involved…"

"On the contrary," Thor argued, cutting him off once again. "The Asgard have made a habit of monitoring the communications of certain humans whom O'Neill deems to be untrustworthy. Our surveillance efforts confirm that you played a significant role in the despicable events that have befallen Major Carter in recent days."

"You can't prove a damn thing," Simmons said firmly. He was fairly certain that Thor was bluffing at this point, but then again, Jack held a hell of a lot sway with the Asgard; it was possible that they really had been monitoring him at the other man's request. "And even if you could," he continued, "No court would ever hear your evidence."

"Nowhere does the protected planets treaty stipulate that we must respect and abide by the legal system of a particular people," Thor retorted, his big black eyes narrowing slightly. "Should the Asgard wish to seek retribution for the harm that has been done to Major Carter, your courts would need not become involved in the matter."

Simmons tried and failed to hide a shudder at that thought; goodness only knew what these… people would consider appropriate punishment for kidnapping. Despite his concerns, he still pushed on, determined to call the Asgard's bluff, if he was, in fact, bluffing. "If you had any proof, you'd have gone running to Colonel O'Neill days ago."

"The Asgard have a great deal of respect for O'Neill, however he has a tendency to behave rashly when the well-being of those he cares for is threatened," Thor replied calmly. "The High Council has elected to deal with this matter ourselves, thereby avoiding any unfortunate consequences that would result from the actions O'Neill would be likely to take if he were presented with confirmation of your involvement."

"Let's see your so-called proof," Simmons demanded, directing the steeliest glare he could muster at the little alien. Although he may have sounded confident, Simmons was increasingly worried that maybe the Asgard had collected evidence implicating him after all. He could read most _people_ effortlessly, but up until three minutes ago, he'd never even _met_ an Asgard; he was too unfamiliar with their behavior and body language to really assess the truth behind Thor's words.

"As Supreme Commander, I am under no obligation to acquiesce to the foolish demands of a mere colonel, and certainly not one who has retired from honorable service in order to reap personal benefits," Thor said dismissively. "I am here merely to deliver a message to you on behalf of the Asgard High Council."

Simmons regarded the little grey alien cautiously, not sure whether he should continue to push his luck or not. He felt absolutely ridiculous, cowering while a three foot tall, fragile looking alien with puny little arms and legs towered over him, but he was loathe to do anything that could cause an intergalactic incident and jeopardize Earth's relations with the Asgard. Even though Thor had essentially kidnapped him, he figured the Asgard could spin the abduction as little more than a friendly chat and lay all the fault for any resulting unpleasantness at his own feet. Simmons was already in hot water with his superiors; the last thing he needed right now was to draw even more attention to himself.

"The Asgard hold Major Carter in the highest esteem. We owe our continued survival to her, along with the other members of SG-1 and General Hammond," Thor stated calmly, although there was a hard edge to his words. "In the future, the Asgard will consider any actions taken against SG-1 or General Hammond to be hostile acts committed against heroes of our people, and we will seek retribution against those responsible, as dictated by our own laws."

"What you're suggesting could very well be interpreted as an act of war," Simmons pointed out coolly.

"As could any other attempts to harm friends of the Asgard," Thor retorted.

Apparently discussion on the matter was closed. Thor turned his back on Simmons and walked the short distance to the control console in the middle of the room. He adjusted a few stones while Simmons looked on, pausing with one hand hovering over the final stone.

"On a personal note," Thor added, almost conversationally, "I am quite fond of O'Neill, Major Carter, Daniel Jackson and Teal'c. Should I learn of your involvement in any additional plots to cause them harm, I will not hesitate to return to Earth and transport you aboard my ship so that I may deliver you to the most unpleasant and inhospitable corner of this galaxy that I am able to locate."

With those parting words, Thor moved the last stone into place and Simmons was swallowed up in another blinding flash of light. As the transport beam faded away and the spots dancing before his eyes cleared, Simmons saw the familiar furnishings of his office just moments before he found himself tumbling off the edge of his desk and on to the floor. Climbing to his feet, Simmons grumbled angrily to himself. Apparently the Asgard, or at least Thor, had a rather juvenile sense of humor. That, or their beaming technology wasn't nearly as sophisticated as they wanted the people of Earth to believe.

Casting a rueful glance at his coffee-soaked tie, Simmons decided it would be best if he took a more hands-off role in future NID operations against the SGC's flagship team. Thor's threats were probably empty ones, but he wasn't willing to take the risk that the little alien was serious.


	47. Chapter 47

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"It is done, O'Neill," Thor greeted, his voice reaching Jack's ears even before the hologram had fully flickered into existence.

"Thanks, buddy. I own you one," Jack returned with a wide grin, wishing he could have been on board the ship to see Simmons' face when the other man realized he'd been abducted by aliens. Giving up on untangling his yo-yo's string, he set it to one side and turned his full attention on his little grey friend.

"I believe we shall… 'call it even' as the humans of Earth are fond of saying," Thor replied, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar colloquialism. "I found Colonel Simmons' reactions to be highly amusing."

"I'll bet," Jack smirked. For all the confused head tilts and blank looks Thor usually gave the members of SG-1, Jack was starting to suspect that the little guy had quite the sense of humor.

"Has there been any change in Major Carter's condition?" Thor asked, concern clear in his big, black eyes.

The High Council had contacted him two Earth days ago, relaying a message from Jack about what had happened and asking him to swing by Earth the first chance he got. Concerned that Sam's health had been the motivating factor behind the requested visit, Thor had set out right away. When he'd arrived in orbit around Earth, he'd beamed himself down to the planet, offering whatever assistance he could. In the end, Jack had thanked him for coming so fast, reassuring him that Sam was expected to make a full recovery and outlining the plan he'd hatched to try and dissuade the NID from any further attempts to get their hands on her. Being well aware of the organization's treacherous ways, Thor was happy to help and had even expanded on Jack's original plan, broadening the threat of retribution to include all four members of SG-1. The High Council would be extremely unhappy with him if they ever found out what had transpired on the ship, but that was fine with Thor; he had no intention of telling them.

"Just change for the better," Jack reassured, leaning back in his chair and kicking his combat boot clad feet up on the desk. "It'll still be a while until she's ready for field duty again, but Doctor Frasier thinks she'll be well enough to go home by the middle of next week. "

"That is encouraging news," Thor agreed, tilting his head slightly to the side. "Please convey to Major Carter my hope that she is soon well."

"Yeahsureyabetcha," Jack smirked. "I don't suppose you can stay for a while, maybe pay her a little visit?" he asked hopefully.

Three new nurses had been brought onboard in the infirmary last week and things had been relatively quiet so far; it had hardly been a good introduction to what they could expect life at the SGC to be like. He'd love to see how they reacted to their first close encounter of the third kind, and it would be so easy for Thor to beam himself right on down to Sam's bedside…

"Unfortunately, I cannot," Thor replied, misinterpreting Jack's disappointment at his words. "I fear I must depart immediately if I am to return in time for a meeting of the Asgard High Council."

"Sorry for dragging you away from something important. You could have said you were busy…"

"I find most High Council meetings to be superfluous," Thor confessed, an undeniably mischievous twinkle in his big black eyes. "This has been a considerably more enjoyable use of my time."

"Glad I could help," Jack smirked, deciding that Thor definitely had a better sense of humor than he usually let on. "If you ever want to return the favor…"

"I look forward to seeing you again soon, O'Neill," Thor interrupted, blinking at Jack in an almost conspiratorial fashion. At least, that's what it looked like to Jack; he didn't know if the Asgard did 'conspiratorial' or if he was reading too much human into Asgard facial expressions.

As suddenly as he'd appeared, Thor was gone, the hologram flickering out of existence and leaving Jack alone in his office. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was almost time for his team's daily Scrabble game. Although playing against two certified geniuses, one of whom was also a linguist, and an alien with an impeccable vocabulary made the outcome of the game more or less pre-determined, it was a tradition they'd started years ago and they still fell back on it whenever one of them was in the infirmary for a few days. He was sure his team was conspiring against him – how else could his simple 'tell' have turned into 'stella' on Daniel's next turn and then been immediately transformed into 'constellation' by Sam? – and Teal'c was almost certainly slipping Star Wars words in whenever Daniel was too doped up on morphine to call him on it, but it gave them all something to look forward to, so Jack kept showing up for the games even though he got his butt kicked every time.

Letting his feet slide off the desk and land on the floor with a heavy thud, Jack pushed himself up out of his chair and made his way out into the corridor, whistling quietly. He wasn't planning on telling his team what he and Thor had been up to – if any of his superiors ever caught wind of this particular shenanigan, he wanted to be able to keep the others out of trouble – but that didn't mean he couldn't bask in the satisfaction of having gotten inside Simmons' head.


	48. Chapter 48

**A/N:** Here we are, at the final chapter… Yay!! A **_huge_** 'thank you' to everyone who has stuck with me throughout this story (which is officially the longest thing I've ever written), and especially to those of you who took the time to review. Your patience, encouragement and constructive criticism are all greatly appreciated. And now, on with the show. Enjoy! : )

**What A Tangled Web We Weave…**

"Oh, come _on_!" Jack exclaimed in frustration, throwing out his arms and almost toppling out of his seat in the process. "Are you _blind_?"

On his left, Sam and Daniel traded exasperated looks, rolling their eyes in unison at their commanding officer's antics. Keeping a wary eye on the older man's flailing limbs, Daniel leaned over and whispered in Sam's ear, "If we ignore him, will he just go away?"

"Is it common for visually impaired individuals to officiate at professional sporting events?" Teal'c asked seriously from his spot on Sam's other side. He glanced at the TV with newfound interest, considering how such an occurrence might impact the outcome of otherwise uninteresting matches.

"Sometimes it seems that way," Jack replied, sulking. "_That_ was not icing," he insisted, gesturing at the screen with his beer bottle for added emphasis. He looked to his teammates for support, but it was painfully obvious that none was forthcoming.

"Sorry, sir," Sam replied, sounding distinctly unapologetic as she shifted awkwardly, trying to pull the worn quilt further up her body without sending anyone tumbling off the bed. "I was coughing; my eyes were closed."

"I was… watching Sam cough," Daniel offered lamely, shifting his weight to the right so she could pull the edge of the quilt out from under him. His poor excuse earned him a playful poke in the ribs from Jack. "Ow!"

"I was not paying attention," Teal'c chimed in regally, head held high as he regarded the TV with disdain. "I have no interest in ice hockey."

"Fine," Jack sighed, giving up. Twisting around on the bed, he swung his legs over the edge and got to his feet before setting his beer on the bedside table. "Guess it's time to pick another movie, kids."

"It is Major Carter's turn to choose," Teal'c stated in a tone that left no room for argument. He arched an eyebrow at her pointedly, silently reminding her of the promise she'd made before being released from the infirmary.

"_Indiana Jones_," Sam replied, keeping her word. "All of them, but we have to start at the beginning." Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke, prompting Teal'c to pass her the glass of orange juice off the bedside table with a small, satisfied smile.

"No way," Daniel protested even as Jack gleefully reached for the appropriate case. "Do you _know_ how completely and utterly wrong_ everything_ in those movies is?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll enlighten us," Jack replied, sharing an amused look with Sam. He didn't wait for his teammates to reach a consensus before slipping the first disc in the machine. Even though Daniel had yet to concede defeat, Jack knew with absolute certainty that they would be watching hours upon hours of _Indiana Jones _this afternoon. Any minute, now Carter would unleash the full force of her big blue eyes on the team's resident archaeologist and he would cave in. It was just a matter of time, really.

"Come on, Daniel. Teal'c's never seen them before and he's really been looking forward to watching them." Sam wheedled. Tilting her head back, she gave him a pleading look right on schedule, leaving Jack to bite back a grin while Teal'c looked on in mild amusement. "Please?" she asked hopefully, all wide eyed and innocent, as if she didn't know exactly how to get her way where Daniel was concerned.

"Fine," the bespectacled man grudgingly agreed, folding his arms across his chest in a full-fledged pout. "But I get to talk through the movies," he negotiated.

"That's par for the course," Jack smirked, cuing up the first movie and getting it started. He turned back to the others crowded together on the bed as the theme music started, just in time to see Daniel cringe and shudder violently. Jack couldn't help but wonder if all archaeologists had such visceral reactions to good ol' Indy.

Even though very little was actually happening on the screen at the moment, Teal'c was completely captivated, excitement written plain on his face. Daniel had been ready to protest some more, entertaining himself by bantering with Jack through most of the movies, but upon seeing how happy Teal'c was, he snapped his mouth shut and settled down to suffer in silence.

Before Jack could reclaim his place on the bed, the alarm on his watch started chirping over and over again, demanding their attention. As one, the men of SG-1 sprang into action: Teal'c got to his feet and left the room to retrieve the thermometer from the bathroom; Jack reached for the bottle of cough medicine and readied a spoon with the thick red syrup; and Daniel twisted the cap off the bottle of amoxicillin, tapping two tablets into his palm. Sam, meanwhile, was left to sigh in exasperation; there had been _way_ too much effort put into coordinating their roles.

"Open," Jack ordered as he leaned forward carefully, his left hand under the spoon to prevent any spills.

"Sir, I can do this myself," Sam protested even as she sat up and leaned towards him. They'd had this debate several times now and though she didn't expect it to do her any good, she continued to raise the same argument each and every time his watch started beeping.

"I know that," he retorted, just as he had done the last few times she'd brought it up. "Now, open," he repeated, fixing her with a stern look.

Heaving another sigh, Sam opened her mouth and moved forward to take the medicine. She made a show of swallowing the thick syrup, gulping it down dramatically. Despite the glare Sam directed at him, Jack unconcernedly loaded the spoon again and repeated the process. Satisfied that Sam had taken the full dose, he replaced the cap on the bottle of cherry-scented goop and left to get a clean spoon from the kitchen, stopping only to pause the movie. As soon as she'd taken the cough medicine, Daniel held his hand out expectantly, ready to carry out his assigned task.

"Here you go," Daniel dropped the tablets into her waiting hand. Leaning over her, he twisted awkwardly to reach her juice and handed it to her.

"You know, I _can_ do this stuff myself," Sam repeated. Tipping the pills into her mouth, she took a swallow of juice to help wash them down. Sparing him another act of contortion, she set her own glass back on the bedside table; after all, she was closer to it than he was and it wasn't like her arms were broken.

"We know," Daniel assured, watching her lie back against the pillows before smoothing the covers over her. "But we're all a little rattled by what happened and if we'd been here with you like we should have been, the NID never would have gotten their hands on you."

"That's not true," Sam said firmly, eyes begging him to hear the truth in her words and absolve himself of guilt. "It wasn't your fault; I wish you'd all stop blaming yourselves."

"We can't," Daniel murmured, reaching out a hand and running his fingers through her short hair.

"Perhaps in time we will be able to forgive ourselves," Teal'c added quietly from the doorway. "But that day has not yet arrived."

Entering the room, he popped the thermometer in Sam's mouth and reclaimed his place beside her on the bed, waiting patiently for the device to beep its results. For his part, Daniel continued running his fingers through her hair. He wasn't sure if he was trying to soothe her or himself, but in the grand scheme of things, it didn't really matter; he was just happy to have her back in one piece.

"I'm fine," Sam reasoned around the thermometer. "There's nothing to forgive." Pressing her shoulder into Teal'c's thigh, the gentle thrum from his symbiote raced through her naquadah-sensitive body, the familiar sensation reassuring the two of them that she was really home.

"Only because we got lucky," Jack said quietly from the doorway, rejoining the rest of his team. "A member of the NID had a change of heart; that's practically unheard of."

With those words, the three men turned their full attention on her. Since being rescued, she'd been uncharacteristically quiet whenever Pearson had been mentioned and though they had all taken turns offering her an ear to bend, she'd insisted that nothing was bothering her. They all knew she was lying, but they also knew that sometimes, the only way to deal with the things they experienced was to lie to themselves; there was always the hope that if they claimed to be 'fine' often enough, it would become the truth. Moreover, none of them tended to be very forthcoming with their feelings and although they hated her silence, Jack, Daniel and Teal'c could hardly fault Sam for dealing with her feelings the same way they did.

"I know," Sam finally conceded, her voice little more than a murmur. She shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her teammates' gazes, eyes cast downward to avoid having to meet theirs.

"So," Jack clapped his hands enthusiastically, taking pity on her and changing the subject. "Are we ready to start Daniel's _favorite_ movie?"

Sam and Teal'c shared an amused look as Daniel – predictably – groaned. Jack just grinned, never happier than when he was getting his favorite archaeologist all riled up.

Just a moment later, however, the movie was forgotten for the second time in less than five minutes. The thermometer chirped brightly, announcing that it was ready to pass judgment on Sam's current condition. She happily pulled the offending object from her mouth and handed it to Teal'c, who nodded approvingly before dutifully recording her temperature. Without a word, he got to his feet again and took the thermometer back to the bathroom to be rinsed.

"Shove over, Danny," Jack demanded, approaching the bed as if preparing to do battle.

"Why?" Daniel practically pouted, reluctant to give up his hard-won seat beside Sam.

As much as their hovering was beginning to wear on Sam's nerves, she couldn't help but giggle at the expressions on her friends' faces. Not for the first time, there was a full-fledged argument brewing over who got to sit beside her and, juvenile as it was, she had no inclination to put a stop to it. After all, a girl had to get her kicks where she could and since Sam wasn't supposed to stray very far from her bed these days, quality entertainment was hard to come by.

"You and Teal'c have been the bread for the Carter Sandwich all afternoon," Jack said petulantly, just shy of whining. When Sam and Daniel both looked at him in confusion, he shrugged and insisted, "That means it's my turn to sit next to her."

"Take Teal'c's spot," Daniel advised helpfully, refusing to budge.

Jack's eyebrows shot up his forehead, silently asking if the younger man had lost his mind. Teal'c had staked out the left side of the bed as his territory within ten minutes of arriving at Sam's house two days ago. With the exception of soup and juice runs, the odd bathroom break and periodic thermometer retrieval missions, he'd yet to leave his spot. Their Jaffa teammate hadn't said anything, but Jack strongly suspected that attempting to take his seat would result in being unceremoniously dumped on the floor as soon as Teal'c returned.

After several seconds of pointed staring, Daniel finally capitulated with a long, drawn out sigh.

"Fine, but I get to… 'be the bread for the Carter Sandwich' after dinner," he grumbled. Sliding over, he claimed Jack's previous seat, leaving space for the older man between Sam and himself.

"You guys are _so_ weird," Sam informed them all matter of factly, including Teal'c in the statement as he returned and took up his position at her side once more.

"You love us," Daniel stated confidently, grinning at her before Jack slithered into place and blocked their view of one another.

"And you wouldn't change a thing," Jack agreed, settling a hand on her forehead and stroking his thumb soothingly over her still a touch too warm skin.

"Most of the time," Teal'c whispered just loud enough for her to hear in the heartbeat before Daniel reluctantly started the movie back up.

With a grin, Sam shifted her gaze to the man on her left and winked conspiratorially. They were all right, really. Sam knew without a doubt that she could always count on her teammates to come through for her, no matter how impossible it seemed at the time. And even though they drove her up one wall and down the other some days, she really _wouldn't _change a thing… Most of the time.

She adored them all, even on days like this when they were squishing her in her own bed, taking over her TV and periodically force-feeding her samplings from the wide variety of homemade soups Mrs. Smithson kept delivering every few hours. It was slowly driving her crazy, but it also made her feel safe and loved. She knew it was just their way of showing how much they cared about her, so she put up with the hovering. Yes, she complained about it, but she only did it because she knew that no matter how much she protested, they would never stop. When it came right down to it, she was grateful they were too damn stubborn to take her bluster about taking care of herself seriously, even if they did go a bit overboard occasionally. These were her guys and she took the good with the bad; changing even one teensy thing about any one of them would change _all_ of them, and never in a million years would she want to do that...

… Changing the circumstances of a situation, however, was an entirely different story. Take, for example, today, with the whole drinking all her beer and not letting her have even one sip thing. _That _she would be willing to change in a heartbeat.

_The End_

**A/N:** Hooray for ooey gooey teamy goodness! And now I need to go write a short, fluffy one shot completely devoid of cliffhangers. Seriously. : )


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